“Measure Yourselves”
The cold wind blew hard off the choppy waters of the San Francisco bay as Mark walked with his scarf wrapped around his neck and his wool sweater that was too porous to help. He wished he had bought the windbreaker on display a few stores back, but this city was too expensive for a person coming from Alabama. Slanted forward, stiffening his muscles to fend off the cold, he headed to “City Lights,” a book store started by the literary movement, “The Beats,” to finish reading a copy of Howl by Allen Ginsberg. On he went against the wind like a tank. But Mark was not a tank, he was actually quite skinny.
He was going as described when something pushed him hard to the edge of the sidewalk. Quick on his feet, he did not fall, but turned to see the culprit: an enormous man shaking his head violently who then quickly approached him and put his large hand on his shoulder.
“I am really sorry,” he said in a husky voice of unusual sincerity.
Mark felt the candidness of the apology, hence did not get angry and was about to leave; however, the strange mix of size, seriousness, and levity of the man in front of him, who had just stumbled down the stairs of a porn shop, intrigued him. He stayed a few seconds looking at this man, who then swung his arms with great agility and with a different expression on his face, asked:
“What’s a good place to have fun in this city?”
The question bewildered Mark. He had not come to have fun, but to explore the birth place of his favorite literary movement. Clearly, he had nothing in common with him. But he remembered how he admired the Beats for their openness to new experiences, so he opted to ask in a doubtful tone:
“Do you know about the Beats?”
The man stared blankly. “The writers?” He asked.
“Yes. Kerouac, Ginsberg, Burroughs. The precursors to the sixties.”
“OK…”
“I am going to the book store in which they first sold their books. Do you want to check it out?”
“OK…”
Now accompanied, Mark did not notice the wind as much. As they got closer, Mark realized that Allen Ginsberg’s old place of residency was coming up across the street. He hesitated to point it out, as the man had not been very forthcoming about his literary knowledge, but he surprised himself by asking:
“Do you see that house?” The man turned towards it. “Allen Ginsberg used to live there” Mark added.
“OK.”
Mark began to feel uncomfortable. Did this man even know who Allen Ginsberg was? After some silence, the man lowered his head to come down to Mark’s level:
“What do you do?” he asked.
“I am teacher, I work with at risks youth.”
“Wow, that’s good that you do that, it’s probably tough and you don’t get pay much”
“It can be difficult. But it can also be rewarding. And what do you do?”
“I am an investment banker.”
“OK... And what are you doing here?”
“I have a six hour lay over and wanted to check out the city. I rented a Ferrari and drove it on the Golden Gate as fast as I could. Yeah, I make lots of money. Let’s go to a bar. I’ll pay. You know of any good ones.”
Mark knew of a bar down the street from the bookstore. He had passed by it earlier to see the photos of Beat writers on its walls. But he was not sure he wanted to take this man there, he seemed to care only about fun. But Mark surprised himself again.
“I know of a bar few blocks down from the bookstore”
“Great. My name is Rudy.”
“I am Mark.”
When they stepped inside the bar, the outside winds rushed inward with whistling noises. Everybody turned to look at them, but then stared at Rudy, who shook his head violently and suddenly said: “brrrr,” rather loudly. Mark’s hair was disheveled and both of their faces were red from the bracing wind.
“My friend and I want some drinks” Rudy declared loudly.
The bartender, a large man too, looked at Rudy suspiciously.
“Well, sit down” he said.
Marc and Rudy walked to the bar, sat down, and the bartender came to get their orders. They both ordered beers.
“I’ll pay,” said Rudy to Mark
“OK, but I’ll get the next one.”
“Oh no, don’t worry about it.”
Then Rudy shouted to the bartender, who was now on the far end of the bar.
“Hey, how much does it cost to run a place like this?”
The bartender looked at Ruby as if to tell him to stop joking around.
“Take it easy. It’s only six p.m.”
“Aren’t you going to answer my question?” Rudy demanded.
Mark did not know what to make of this exchange. Rudy had asked the question aggressively, but in a manner that was not insulting. He then thought of them as two beasts testing each other and watched the scene with disbelieve.
“How tall are you?” Rudy asked the bartender
“I am 6’5”
“I don’t believe you. I am 6’4 and ¾. You don’t look that tall.”
“Measure yourselves!” A voice said from somewhere in the bar. After hearing this, Rudy and the bartender looked at each other in the eye.
“All right,” said the bartender.
He quickly went around the bar and stood in from of Rudy, who was now standing up. It was obvious to Mark, and probably to everyone else, that if a fight had broken out, Rudy would have been the better man. Not only was he younger and fitter, but there was something kinetic about him.
“He is taller than you,” the mysterious stranger said. This time, Mark saw who he was, an older man, around fifty, wearing a beret.
The bartender went back to the other side of the bar. He had a slight smirk on his face.
“You know, being tall is very important in my job,” Rudy said.
“What do you do?” asked the stranger, who was sitting far away but had heard him.
“I am an investment banker. If you are tall and walk into a meeting, you dominate that meeting” Rudy said.
Mark could not imagine such world. He was transported back to high school and continued to watch the scene thoughtfully.
“But I am tired of that job. I want to open a small bar somewhere. A bar like this but smaller, with less tourists”, said Rudy.
“Oh yeah,” the stranger said. “I can show you a few. I know this town like the back of my hand. I can tell you about the business too.”
“Can you do it now?”
“Let’s do it”
“Let’s get out of here”
Rudy got two twenty dollar bills out of his pocket and put them on the table.
“This should cover it,” he said, then quickly went to where the stranger was and they both went out the door talking.
The bar was quiet as it regained its balance. Mark was intrigued. A sudden desire to go with Rudy had stung him the moment he had left. This feeling was still lingering as he sipped his bear. He was not sure what to make of this unexpected episode. He decided not to finish his beer. He stood up and went out of the bar. It was still windy outside. He walked the two blocks up to the bookstore, where he read about the lives of the Beats.
The cold wind blew hard off the choppy waters of the San Francisco bay as Mark walked with his scarf wrapped around his neck and his wool sweater that was too porous to help. He wished he had bought the windbreaker on display a few stores back, but this city was too expensive for a person coming from Alabama. Slanted forward, stiffening his muscles to fend off the cold, he headed to “City Lights,” a book store started by the literary movement, “The Beats,” to finish reading a copy of Howl by Allen Ginsberg. On he went against the wind like a tank. But Mark was not a tank, he was actually quite skinny.
He was going as described when something pushed him hard to the edge of the sidewalk. Quick on his feet, he did not fall, but turned to see the culprit: an enormous man shaking his head violently who then quickly approached him and put his large hand on his shoulder.
“I am really sorry,” he said in a husky voice of unusual sincerity.
Mark felt the candidness of the apology, hence did not get angry and was about to leave; however, the strange mix of size, seriousness, and levity of the man in front of him, who had just stumbled down the stairs of a porn shop, intrigued him. He stayed a few seconds looking at this man, who then swung his arms with great agility and with a different expression on his face, asked:
“What’s a good place to have fun in this city?”
The question bewildered Mark. He had not come to have fun, but to explore the birth place of his favorite literary movement. Clearly, he had nothing in common with him. But he remembered how he admired the Beats for their openness to new experiences, so he opted to ask in a doubtful tone:
“Do you know about the Beats?”
The man stared blankly. “The writers?” He asked.
“Yes. Kerouac, Ginsberg, Burroughs. The precursors to the sixties.”
“OK…”
“I am going to the book store in which they first sold their books. Do you want to check it out?”
“OK…”
Now accompanied, Mark did not notice the wind as much. As they got closer, Mark realized that Allen Ginsberg’s old place of residency was coming up across the street. He hesitated to point it out, as the man had not been very forthcoming about his literary knowledge, but he surprised himself by asking:
“Do you see that house?” The man turned towards it. “Allen Ginsberg used to live there” Mark added.
“OK.”
Mark began to feel uncomfortable. Did this man even know who Allen Ginsberg was? After some silence, the man lowered his head to come down to Mark’s level:
“What do you do?” he asked.
“I am teacher, I work with at risks youth.”
“Wow, that’s good that you do that, it’s probably tough and you don’t get pay much”
“It can be difficult. But it can also be rewarding. And what do you do?”
“I am an investment banker.”
“OK... And what are you doing here?”
“I have a six hour lay over and wanted to check out the city. I rented a Ferrari and drove it on the Golden Gate as fast as I could. Yeah, I make lots of money. Let’s go to a bar. I’ll pay. You know of any good ones.”
Mark knew of a bar down the street from the bookstore. He had passed by it earlier to see the photos of Beat writers on its walls. But he was not sure he wanted to take this man there, he seemed to care only about fun. But Mark surprised himself again.
“I know of a bar few blocks down from the bookstore”
“Great. My name is Rudy.”
“I am Mark.”
When they stepped inside the bar, the outside winds rushed inward with whistling noises. Everybody turned to look at them, but then stared at Rudy, who shook his head violently and suddenly said: “brrrr,” rather loudly. Mark’s hair was disheveled and both of their faces were red from the bracing wind.
“My friend and I want some drinks” Rudy declared loudly.
The bartender, a large man too, looked at Rudy suspiciously.
“Well, sit down” he said.
Marc and Rudy walked to the bar, sat down, and the bartender came to get their orders. They both ordered beers.
“I’ll pay,” said Rudy to Mark
“OK, but I’ll get the next one.”
“Oh no, don’t worry about it.”
Then Rudy shouted to the bartender, who was now on the far end of the bar.
“Hey, how much does it cost to run a place like this?”
The bartender looked at Ruby as if to tell him to stop joking around.
“Take it easy. It’s only six p.m.”
“Aren’t you going to answer my question?” Rudy demanded.
Mark did not know what to make of this exchange. Rudy had asked the question aggressively, but in a manner that was not insulting. He then thought of them as two beasts testing each other and watched the scene with disbelieve.
“How tall are you?” Rudy asked the bartender
“I am 6’5”
“I don’t believe you. I am 6’4 and ¾. You don’t look that tall.”
“Measure yourselves!” A voice said from somewhere in the bar. After hearing this, Rudy and the bartender looked at each other in the eye.
“All right,” said the bartender.
He quickly went around the bar and stood in from of Rudy, who was now standing up. It was obvious to Mark, and probably to everyone else, that if a fight had broken out, Rudy would have been the better man. Not only was he younger and fitter, but there was something kinetic about him.
“He is taller than you,” the mysterious stranger said. This time, Mark saw who he was, an older man, around fifty, wearing a beret.
The bartender went back to the other side of the bar. He had a slight smirk on his face.
“You know, being tall is very important in my job,” Rudy said.
“What do you do?” asked the stranger, who was sitting far away but had heard him.
“I am an investment banker. If you are tall and walk into a meeting, you dominate that meeting” Rudy said.
Mark could not imagine such world. He was transported back to high school and continued to watch the scene thoughtfully.
“But I am tired of that job. I want to open a small bar somewhere. A bar like this but smaller, with less tourists”, said Rudy.
“Oh yeah,” the stranger said. “I can show you a few. I know this town like the back of my hand. I can tell you about the business too.”
“Can you do it now?”
“Let’s do it”
“Let’s get out of here”
Rudy got two twenty dollar bills out of his pocket and put them on the table.
“This should cover it,” he said, then quickly went to where the stranger was and they both went out the door talking.
The bar was quiet as it regained its balance. Mark was intrigued. A sudden desire to go with Rudy had stung him the moment he had left. This feeling was still lingering as he sipped his bear. He was not sure what to make of this unexpected episode. He decided not to finish his beer. He stood up and went out of the bar. It was still windy outside. He walked the two blocks up to the bookstore, where he read about the lives of the Beats.