Last night I was at the coffee shop downtown explaining the function and makeup of the Supreme Court to Bill. He's from Jordan and his real name is Bilal. I call him Bilal sometimes, but I usually just call him Bill.
"The Supreme Court is like all the other courts," I explained, "except it's a little bigger and comes with sour cream." He smiled and looked a little puzzled.
I lost interest in Bill at that moment, however, because a catholic priest - little white square on his collar and everything - walked into the coffee shop. As I always do, I watched him like a hawk, not wanting to miss anything. He walked up to the counter and ordered a small coffee. He carried it back to a table near me and picked up the newspaper that was sitting there. He drank his coffee black. At one point he saw me looking at him and smiled and nodded. Eventually, he tossed the cup in the trash and left.
Nothing. It had been, as usual, a total waste of time. I was a little annoyed.
Priests are, apparently, much quirkier and funnier when they walk into bars than when they walk into coffee shops. I wish we had more rabbis around here.
Later. Love.
