Today I saw a guy stop another guy on the street. They were both clean-cut, young professional types. The first guy, who looked like a child at Christmas who’d been given a pony made of ice cream that shot lasers out of its eyes, said, “Rob! I dropped in to see you!”
The other guy, who may or may not have been named Rob, looked at him with the same expression you might expect to see on a freshly cleaned white-board. So the first guy, who now looked like his pony was showing the first signs of melting repeated, “I dropped in to see you!”
The second guy, the blank white-board named Rob, he said, “Oh cool. Yeah,” and didn’t offer his hand for a shake. He looked like he was deciding if he should tell the guy with the melting pony his name wasn’t “Rob” or if he should play along. He decided on the latter but wasn’t comfortable with it. You could see streaks of dry-erase pen on his white-board left after using a wet-erase shammy instead of a dry paper towel.
Soon I was out of earshot of the first guy’s voice which was still shooting off like laser beams when I entered the subway station.