A Story about Dinner

Here's a story written by Alex Lencicki about a dinner party at my apartment a long, long time ago. I liked the party but I liked the story even more.

When I get there, there's a long hallway like a cattle chute in a slaughterhouse, and I find myself being compelled down it -- nodding at introductions -- down to the end of the hall where there is this guy blocking the door to the living room. "Good to meet you," he says, and it is disarming because he means it, deeply. He is one of those people who couldn't be disingenuous if he tried; one of those guys who would get his hand stuck in the drawer of a roll-top desk while everyone hung around in the kitchen, and you'd have to get the Vaseline out and try and pry him free and even then it would be unlikely that he would have a bad thing to say about anything. He is impossible not to like.

I'm not there for two-minutes before I'm back outside in the rain with the guy-who's-too-nice and Dave because we need to go buy crackers and cheese and more beer. I'm trying to get the names straight in my head because this dinner party appears to be attended by mostly beautiful women, and really want to get the names right. Just for future reference.

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