The Cerebral Approach

You'll note over there on the Blogroll to the left a webpage called Behind the Stick. I can't recommend the site enough. Scribbler50 is a tender of bar in the Big Apple, and each week he posts one good story about something that happened, or didn't happen, or should have happened, or could have happened, at his bar. It can be anything from the mundane -- loud talkers, poor tippers, stinky customers -- to the sublime: shooting the shit with Pierce Brosnan or Jimmy Fallon just dropping in out of the blue and taking over the bar for a totally-unsolicited 45-minute comedy routine.

This story, about a guy who uses a crossword puzzle to pick up a woman, got me to reminiscing about a tall tale from my own colorful past...

My college buddies and I have an annual Vegas trip we do, usually either the first weekend of the NFL playoffs or the first weekend of March Madness, whichever works out best for the majority of the guys' schedules. Well, no surprise, these bacchanals are invariably unspeakable gambling and boozefests — and sometimes more — and more often than not there’s the potential for late night run to an establishment specializing in female entertainment (of the dancing variety).

On one such occasion, one of the fellas brought along a paperback book! Yes, you read that right, a paperback book! For the life of us we couldn’t understand, and much joking ensued on the cab ride to the club. Once we got there, however, Roscoe [name changed to protect the guilty] went into cerebral mode, finding a little corner booth by himself and setting to reading that paperback. Well, you want to talk about a chick-magnet-in-a-girlie bar, every female in the place was drawn to this guy, who was studiously paying them no mind — nor any money. He was just reading his book! The ladies were all over him, and I’d say that paperback touched more skin and went more places in two hours than all the $1 bills in the place did the whole night.

Ultimately there was one girl who had actually read the book. I can't recall the name (of the girl or the book), though if memory serves me the book was legitimate literature as opposed to a cheesy “bodice-ripper.” Anyway, Roscoe and this young lady got into a deep, soulful discussion about it. They talked for what seemed like hours -- not that we'd spent that much time there, but you know.

And when the rest of us got ready to leave, Roscoe said simply, “I’m going home with her.” And he did. And he’s been the stuff of legend ever since.