From the moment I hit the street, the only thing I could hear was Bob Seger. Literally. He had taken his family out to dinner in the way that radio personalities go out in public hoping to be recognized. The only difference was that this was my favorite Chili's.
In a drunken rage he began shouting lyrics from some of his better known songs, but I swore I heard a Michael McDonald tune sewn somewhere in his intoxicated, yet somehow musically brilliant song medley. His singing was eventually drowned out by his nonsensical rambling, but no one could tell the difference. I began to laugh, but as I did so he started to approach me. I panicked. Quickly I scrambled to find something to do with my hands. I reached first for my phone, but to my horror, my pockets were empty! The possibility of faking a text was out of the picture, and every second he was getting closer. As a last resort, I actually pretended to be listening to an iPod that clearly was not there. The king of late 70's rock was only feet away now, and my heart raced at a dangerous speed. To my surprise, he actually walked by me without yelling a single obscenity.
So there I was, standing outside at closing time, just watching him walk on past.
I scurried home and told my wife every detail of my "night moves". She decided to celebrate by heating up some strawberry Pop-Tarts in our dying toaster. We spent the rest of the evening chewing on those disgusting little treats.