Interesting Bar Conversation: Stardom.

The other week, I was lingering around the art school to hit up colleagues I'd never met about unionization, then I stuck around downtown to work on an article in various new bars (= mostly Starbucks with beer and wine newly offered in the evenings), and then I got a nightcap at this dive-y bar right in the smack of downtown that's relatively cheap.

The bar was decently full and the only open single stools were in places where you'd always have to sit next to someone, so I chose to sat next to this muscled-up wirey guy with very tatted arms, who was always on his iPhone on some messaging app.

After I got my PBR tallboy and stared off into space in exhaustion, I struck up a conversation and asked him how he was and then I asked him if I could share some good news, and when he said yes, I was like, "Next Wednesday I'm going to appear on [soap opera] as an extra, I'm so excited."

"You should be", he was like, and then he was like, "I'm actually a stuntman."

That blew me out of the water, and he said he was in town to work for a cop show, and he pulled up on his iPhone this video he sends out to audition for jobs, with scene after scene of him on motorcycles or doing flips or getting punched out and once even getting set on fire.

"That's me, on fire," he was like, pointing at his iPhone.

We talked about that a bit - he had worked with Sylvester Stallone and I think DeNiro, and he's doubled for a character on a major pop zombie show - and then we talked about my line of work, which he seemed oddly interested in.

At some point, though, he said something about how "the girls in [the city] are the prettiest in the [name of the national region], but they're not quiet enough," and I wasn't sure if that meant he was hitting on me.

(And if he was, what would that mean, that I should suck his c-ck and not come up for air and conversation?)

Too, he showed me a picture of an MRI of his neck vertebrae, and how they had gotten whacked and some flesh got pinched in between some, though at other times he wavered between saying that he never got hurt and that he a lot of times had no sensation in his left hand.

He later had to leave to go meet some people before flying out the next morning to the Southeast for another shoot, and at that point I asked if I could friend him on Facebook.

"Sure," he was like, and he spelled his last name for me a couple of times so I got it.

Later, I sent a Facebook friend request - and he accepted it.