Weird DC bar encounter 1: my roommate's friend introduces me to a drunk guy who looks very familiar. We shout at each other and figure out that we worked at the same office in New York last summer. He asks me where I am working.
Me: "I start at [my firm] on Monday."
Him: "That's a Jewish firm."
Me: (relevance, counselor?) "Really? Er, I'm not Jewish."
Him: "Oh, all the lawyers who work there are Jewish. But it's good to know who you're working for - you've gotta work for somebody, and there are worse people to work for." (in sort of chummy co-conspirator tone)
Me: "hmm, ah, sure." (backs away slowly)
Weird DC bar encounter 2: I see a young woman as we are leaving the bar. Now normally I just ignore people who look sort-of-but-not-really like people I know, because chances are it's a coincidence. However, this time I shout the name of a girl I knew in high school (so much shouting! I hate loud bars). She turns. It is Lori, who once helped me make a flying pig out of papier mache. We trade numbers. She, too, is drunk. I am in full sober-girl anthropologist mode and can appreciate how weird this all is. It's time to go home. I stop at a bookstore full of hipsters and buy a book to curl up with in the loft.
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