So, I was driving home yesterday after seeing Demetri Martin at Book People. He was appearing there to talk about his newest book, “Point Your Face at This.” What a cool guy, very funny (of course) but also very, very nice. As it became my turn in line to get my book signed, he made sure to address me by name, and when he asked me how I was doing, I got the impression that he really wanted to know, and wasn’t just spouting out auto-verbiage.
So, I’m driving home with my signed copy next to me, in a really good mood. I also have to say that I was in a good mood because of some of the stuff he had talked about in his opening spiel, about how he tapped his creativity. I won’t go into details here, but suffice it to say I was inspired to get back to my writing; especially the kind of writing I really want to do, what really excites me, which is short little humorous essays. The novel I had been working on was just not coming together, and the frustration it was causing me pretty much dried up any creative juices I might have had.
So, as I was saying, (so, how many times am I going to start a paragraph with so?) I was driving home in a good mood, still basking in the glowing light that is Demetri Martin, when I see some guy standing on the side of the street, hocking loogies on passing cars. Hmmm, not something you see every day. And he wasn’t just standing there nonchalantly, spitting at cars; he was really putting some effort into it. Picture some guy, angrily hopping up and down, with a crazed look on his face, and when he let loose, he put his whole body into it, launching a really large gob of spit at each car. As I get closer I start to wonder to myself, will he spit on mine, too? And I’m in such a frame of mind that I’m also asking myself, if he doesn’t, then why not? Am I not important enough to spit on? You spit on everyone else, but not me? Am I chopped liver, you sumbitch? You better spit on me too, you a$$hole.
Well, I needn’t have worried, because he didn’t leave me out. But I sensed he didn’t put the same effort into it that he did with the other cars. He just kind of stood there, and half-heartedly let one go. I chalked it up to the possibility that he could have hurt himself on the previous attempt. (the things we tell ourselves to make us feel better.)
Now, if I hadn’t been in such a good mood, would I have taken more offense to his act? I merely laughed and shook my head. I suppose I could’ve pulled over, gotten out and asked him what his problem was. And if I had been in a bad mood, I might have done just that. And it would’ve been a huge mistake. First of all, I’m an out of shape 47yo man who has never been in a fight (my 8yo daughter kicks my ass on a regular basis.) This guy was obviously mentally deranged, and apparently in very good shape. He was also obviously pissed off enough to feel the need to stand on a street corner and spit on passing cars. He probably would not have given a second thought to completely beating the crap out of me. And then spitting in my face, or what was left of it.
So, I think I can safely say, without a doubt, Demetri Martin saved my life. Thanks, Demetri, I owe you one!