Bananafish on the Liffey
Matt Kozusko (mkozusko@parallel.park.uga.edu)
Tue, 01 Dec 1998 17:53:36 -0500
Scottie:
> Yes, Dr Kosuzko, that's me in the corner of the bar
> as I'm to be descried at noon, December 30. White tux...
> discreet bulge where the Biretta nestles over the splenic flexure...
> the exquisite, dark one on the left arm - my wife...
> and, on the right, the extravagant red-head - Helena...
>
> '...the name'sh Bowman.... Shcottie Bowman....'
I stumble in awkwardly, tall and inelegant like a second-string college
football quarterback and still blushing slightly after having used
"here" as a verb. My worn grey wool jumper marks me as a
twenty-something, but, in conjunction with my inscrutable pleatless
green trousers, doesn't betray my nationality. The lovely
Irish-Norwegian farmgirl at my side looks almost native, except for the
40 ounce Budweiser cradled in her left arm. I survey the crowd, pausing
on the white tux. At first, the red Biretta throws me off--but then I
notice the hunting earflaps and everything becomes clear...
December 30th it is, Davy Byrne's, high-ish noon.
--
Matt Kozusko mkozusko@parallel.park.uga.edu