I was in the elevator at work at the end of the day, sharing a ride down to the lobby with a woman who looked to be about my age, maybe a few years older. Turns out she was drinking water our of a clear water bottle, but for whatever reason - the way the light hit the water, who knows? - my eyes had played tricks on me at first.
Making conversation, I told her about my initial confusion. She laughed uproariously, and we had good chuckle as we walked out into the lobby together.
"Now, if it were Friday, you might be on to something!" she exclaimed.
"I hear you," I said. "Keep a flask in your bag to start the weekend early."
"Exactly. If it were Friday I'd be getting drunk."
I am not one to either "start the weekend early" in such a manner, nor do I generally drink on Friday nights, but again, I was making conversation.
"You know who has a great happy hour around here?" she continued. "That Lime place."
"Oh, you mean that Mexican place up by the movie theater? Yeah, I've been there. They have good margaritas," I recalled.
We headed out of the building and down the escalator to the street.
"Their drinks are strong!" she said.
"You know, I've only been there once, but I remember thinking that. You definitely get some bang for your buck."
"Yeah, that's not something I'm going to complain about, but I definitely noticed it."
I nodded in agreement.
She went on, "I was there last weekend with some folks after work. I got totally fucked up. Fell down and hurt my hip."
Why do complete strangers tell me things like this?
"Oh, that's terrible! Sounds paintful!" I responded.
"Yeah, I threw up. Pissed on myself and everything."
At this point I didn't have anything to say but "oooooh..."
"Yeah, but the guy still wanted to go home with me. Well, bye! Have a good night!"
Indeed.
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