Approximately 2 years ago I was in San Diego on a vacation when I decided to stop at a grocery store for a drink and a bar of dark chocolate. Having acquired my food, I went to the store's outdoor seating area to enjoy it. All tables were occupied. I asked a man who was drinking an IPA and surveying the local fauna (homeless people) if I could sit at his table whilst I ate. He took no issue with this.
Having sat, the man promptly introduced himself to me. To tell you the truth, this was a mannerism which I found quite alien. As a zoomer, it just didn't occur to me that I should try to get to know the guy whom I was sitting directly across from. Nonetheless, I was not so antisocial that I could not reciprocate. Having given him my name, and with him having informed me that his was Dave, we chatted a bit about our lives.
Dave was a tall and muscular man. Quite handsome, too. He worked in private equity–some sort of real estate company which operated out of San Diego and Tijuana. He, therefore, considered himself local to the area, although he traveled frequently for work.
Apparently, he spent every single Saturday in town sitting in this spot. He described it as ideal for peoplewatching. Sporadically, Dave would interrupt our conversation to gesture towards one of the many homeless people roving about.
"He does that every time I see him," Dave would remark about some homeless black man loudly rambling to himself whilst speeding around in a stolen wheelchair. I didn't know the wheelchair was stolen until Dave told me. I guess there was some lore to this homeless black man.
As the conversation went on and Dave continued talking about his job, he would occasionally allude to certain practices that were certainly illegal. Not illegal in some turpitudinous sense where he might face years in prison if he were caught, but just various unethical practices that would probably result in a legal fine or successful tort case if somebody investigated him or his associates.
Overall, Dave seemed like a pretty sharp guy. That, combined with his dubiously-legal activity, gave me the impression that his name wasn't actually Dave. I guess it doesn't matter since we would certainly never meet each other again. He never took off his sunglasses the whole time that we spoke, either, so I'm not sure if I would be able to place his face elsewhere. Maybe he just enjoyed confessing to strangers, or maybe he made a bunch of stuff up just to see what I would believe. Who knows.
Having sat, the man promptly introduced himself to me. To tell you the truth, this was a mannerism which I found quite alien. As a zoomer, it just didn't occur to me that I should try to get to know the guy whom I was sitting directly across from. Nonetheless, I was not so antisocial that I could not reciprocate. Having given him my name, and with him having informed me that his was Dave, we chatted a bit about our lives.
Dave was a tall and muscular man. Quite handsome, too. He worked in private equity–some sort of real estate company which operated out of San Diego and Tijuana. He, therefore, considered himself local to the area, although he traveled frequently for work.
Apparently, he spent every single Saturday in town sitting in this spot. He described it as ideal for peoplewatching. Sporadically, Dave would interrupt our conversation to gesture towards one of the many homeless people roving about.
"He does that every time I see him," Dave would remark about some homeless black man loudly rambling to himself whilst speeding around in a stolen wheelchair. I didn't know the wheelchair was stolen until Dave told me. I guess there was some lore to this homeless black man.
As the conversation went on and Dave continued talking about his job, he would occasionally allude to certain practices that were certainly illegal. Not illegal in some turpitudinous sense where he might face years in prison if he were caught, but just various unethical practices that would probably result in a legal fine or successful tort case if somebody investigated him or his associates.
Overall, Dave seemed like a pretty sharp guy. That, combined with his dubiously-legal activity, gave me the impression that his name wasn't actually Dave. I guess it doesn't matter since we would certainly never meet each other again. He never took off his sunglasses the whole time that we spoke, either, so I'm not sure if I would be able to place his face elsewhere. Maybe he just enjoyed confessing to strangers, or maybe he made a bunch of stuff up just to see what I would believe. Who knows.
