A Night on the Town

The faint beeping of something in the distance seemed to really annoy Lewis. It
had just started, and he was already pacing frantically around the apartment to seek and
destroy the source. When he came into the bedroom, the noise became somewhat louder,
and he realized that with keen listening he had pin-pointed the noise to be coming from the
bed. He swiped away the knotted comforter and cotton sheets to find his cell phone
underneath. He had forgotten that he changed the ring on his phone to an obscure sound
that he hadn’t previously used. Three high-pitched beeps followed by a buzzer-like sound.
As he grabbed the phone, he looked down at the digital screen that stated MISSED
CALL.
“Damn” he muttered, realizing that the caller identification system on his phone
flashed “UNAVAILABLE.” He briefly contemplated the irony of the fact that cell phone
companies keep making the phones smaller and smaller while adding more and more
complex features. “If they keep making these things smaller, I won’t be able to find it to
call anyone” he mumbled to himself.
“Who could it have been?” he wondered to himself. There were several of his
friends who were supposed to get in touch with him on this evening. Just out of college,
Lewis and his rather large group of buddies were all very busy with their various
employment, but still made sure to keep in touch about getting together on the weekends.
It was the ultimate Friday night with bolts of energy flashing through the city streets. The
last thing Lewis wanted to do was miss out on the festivities.
“Maybe it was Barry, or Justin” he thought, “or maybe it was Travis because I
think I remember him saying that he would be in town this weekend.”
Just then, his phone rang (his land line this time) and he answered it, trying his
hardest to disguise his voice from the elation he felt about the possibilities of the perfect
party plan being on the other end of the line. Lewis was not the type of person who was
comfortable with acting desperate. He needs to act like everything is under control, no
matter what he is bursting at the seams about.
“Hello” he said in a contrived unenthusiastic voice. It was Steve Addinger, a friend
that Lewis had not spoken with for months. “How’s it going these days?” he asked
changing his expression to match a sincere question regarding an old, meaningful
friendship. Lewis sat down as to make sure that he wasn’t doing anything else except
focusing on his friend’s response. “It sounds like you’re pretty busy” he said in response to
Steve’s three minutes of mostly uninterrupted explanation. “I remember, and I apologize
for not getting in touch with you sooner” he said after listening about another minute.
“Well, there’s supposedly a really good band playing at Diego’s tonight” he stated with a
serious, almost concerned look on his bristly face that scratched against the phone.
Diego’s is a bar right down the street from Lewis’ apartment and it is known for having a
decent night-life scene. “ OK…then, I’ll probably see you in about an hour- hour and a
half or so” he said, as he hung up the phone and seemed to pause to reflect upon
something above him on the ceiling. There was nothing there except cream-colored swirls
of paint (same as all of the other rooms, and apartments for that matter), so he slowly
pushed himself up and sauntered into the bathroom.
After spending about fifteen minutes on his appearance, which is more time than he
would if he were going to work, Lewis was looking ready to impress the casual bar scene
crowd. His dark ensemble matched his raven black hair, as he threw his leather jacket over
his shoulder and headed out the door. His thoughts at this time were polar to his organized
dress, and his usual confident demeanor seemed to be lost within the entropy of emotions.
To summarize his thoughts, it could be said that he felt overwhelmingly lost. Realizing that
he forgot his phone, he mumbled to himself in a somewhat nervous manner and quickly
jumped back inside his apartment to grab it, and then began his short walk to the
destination while continuing to have a conversation with his own thoughts.
It only took a matter of five minutes for Lewis to be approaching the doorway of
Diego’s. He fumbled his wallet as the man in the doorway asked for his identification.
Lewis was a couple years passed the age of twenty-one, but he still seemed to act
surprised sometimes when he had to prove it. Lewis gazed into the crowded bar, and all of
his anxiety seemed to flow up through his body toward the cold reality of his situation.
He immediately felt like turning around and walking out, but after briefly
remembering a previous experience in which he entered a night spot of this magnitude, he
began to wade through the sea of people. He couldn’t help but feel like everyone was
watching him. The lights were low and the jukebox pulsated in the distance, as he swiveled
his head around the room only to appear as though he was too busy with his own task to
notice the faces of the crowd. He made his way to a small, empty table in the back. He sat
down and placed his phone directly in front of him on the table, as if he was going to have
to pounce on it the split second it made a peep. Focusing his eyes on the band that was
setting up the stage in front of him, he was still consumed by the thought of people
watching his every move.
He fidgeted with his phone over and over again and made sure not to make eye
contact with anyone. He contemplated his own mental condition, when, through some
meta-cognitive process, he came to a conclusion about himself. The worries that he felt
were based upon one simple word: alone. It is a word that takes up very little space in the
dictionary, but Lewis was more concerned with the connotations that accompany the
word. Depending upon the person using the word or whatever is being described, it can
promote sadness, happiness, loneliness, confidence, peace, isolation, privacy, desertion,
intimacy, helplessness, pride, etc., or any combination of these items.
“Alone tonight?” said the waitress whose sneak attack on Lewis was freakishly
coinciding with his mental commentary.
Lewis felt stumped by the question, and his distorted facial expression was enough
to make a lasting first impression on the woman. Without answering the question, he
stated “I’ll have a Budweiser, please.” The waitress looked puzzled, as if she could not
figure out what she said to provoke such a reaction, and she turned around to head for the
bar.
Lewis began to make quick glances around the room. He noticed a couple that
seemed to be having a very intimate conversation at a table nearby. The man and woman
both made eye contact with Lewis, but he swiftly looked away. There were people
standing all around him talking and drinking, and having a good time enjoying each other’s
company. He realized that he was the only person in the room that was alone. “I wonder
what they think about me?” he asked himself. “Have they thought about me at all? What
did the intimate couple say about me? What was the waitress’s hypothesis about me?” he
thought. The waitress returned, with her dirty blonde hair and a uniform to match, and
gave Lewis his beer. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a five dollar bill, then told
her to keep the change. She said nothing.
The band was about ready to start, and Lewis wondered if he would be able to
curtail his paranoid tendencies and stop analyzing himself long enough to enjoy the music.
He honestly did not feel like he could listen without worrying about the people around
him. “How do musicians do it?” he wondered. “How do they enjoy playing their music
without cracking under the pressure of having everyone in the place thinking about them?”
He thought about how these band members had each other for support, but the audience
was still well aware of their individual responsibilities.
Just then, Lewis saw his cell phone light up with the electricity of a new call. He
grabbed the phone and hurried to the bathroom to find a quiet talking area (he also
thought about the people watching him as he left the room). He answered the call as he
walked into the empty restroom, knowing that it was Steve calling from his cell phone.
“I’m at the park on the corner of Fifth and Biltmore. Just meet me here.” said
Steve.
“I’ll be there in about ten minutes” said Lewis.
Lewis left the bathroom and headed straight for the exit, not even stopping to
finish his drink. He was feeling absolutely relieved to be leaving the bar, and to be meeting
Steve shortly thereafter.
As Lewis made his way down the semi-dark street, he noticed Steve sitting on a
park bench that received a touch of light from a nearby street lamp. Steve was dressed
very similarly to Lewis, and he stood up as Lewis approached.
“Long time, no see” laughed Lewis as he shook Steve’s hand.
“We’ve got a lot to catch up on” smiled Steve.
“How did it go tonight?” asked Steve as they began to walk.
“Better than last time” replied Lewis.
“On a scale of 1 to 10, rank your difficulty…10 being most difficult” insisted
Steve.
“I think I was about a seven or eight tonight” said Lewis
“It sounds like your making a little progress, and from the data I’ve gathered with
the phone transmitter, it looks like you’re on your way to kicking this thing. Your heart
rate was down, stress indicators were down, and the audio and video recordings show
some real behavioral improvements. You just need more practice” commented Steve.
“Maybe we should try it again tomorrow” said Lewis. “I don’t want to lose any
momentum I may have going.”
“I definitely agree with that strategy” replied Steve. “Let’s head over to the lab and
finish up” he said, as the two of them strolled into the shadows.