TRAINASAURUS WREX!

After work last night I met up with my friend, Jon, for drinks at The Collins Bar near Times Square. We were killing time before the great Guiness Believer event. The bar had a nice neighborhood feel, which is a strange thing in the heart of tourist-filled Times Square. It was a fun, relaxed time hanging out with my friend, but I also have reason to feel like a dolt about the evening.

The Collins Bar has a very long bar from the entrance, with a small area with two or three tables before the tiny restrooms at the back of the room. We were sitting at one of the tables talking, when a very attractive blonde girl walked in. At least in my opinion she was beautiful. Jon thought she wasn't so pretty as I did. But this is my story, so to hell with Jon's taste for now. She sat down at the bar alone, and with a frustrated look on her face. She looked really, really, really good in her white sweater and blue jeans, as though God invented fluffy white sweaters just for her. She reminded me of the kinds of girls I used to fall in love with immediately in college, but she looked as if she were angry at someone and really needed to release.

So where is this story leading? Nowhere. After about a half hour of stolen glances between this woman and me, Jon and I had to leave, so we left the bar, with the pretty blonde watching us as we walked past her. I never offered to buy her a drink. I didn't ask her to join us. I hadn't even thought to ask her if she wanted to go to the Guiness event with us. I just left another fantasy in my empty beer glass on the bar. Oh well.