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The Vultures

By Lavender June 16, 2011

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I’m writing to you from a crowded restaurant, and Vultures are circling for my seat.

I’m trying to avoid eye contact, because all I have is half a cookie—hardly enough to justify my still taking up this booth, especially since I’m more engrossed in my laptop.

They could sit with me if they wanted to. Of course, they wouldn’t know that unless I invited them, and I don’t want to do that, because I’d rather write for you than talk to them.

OK, so I’ll just pretend I’m oblivious to how busy it is here, and keep my seat.

No, that’s rude. Hang on a sec.

(Recess)

Hello, empty coffee shop and cute barista.

Much better.

So, speaking of Vultures: The Bar Vulture is that guy at the bar who hunts for open-to-conversation prey, and buy drinks in hopes of impairing your judgment enough to take you home.

I admit that I take the bait—that oh-so-glamorous free Red Bull-vodka is hard to pass up. What can I say? I love meeting new people—especially ones as interesting as Vultures—and it takes a special kind of annoying for me to turn down a drink.

Inevitably, some Vultures cross the line. What else would you expect?

The secret is having an escape route. I’ve played around with a few methods, but I think I’ve found one that works: Freak ’em out.

After I had chatted with a Vulture for 15 minutes at a bar recently, my friend, DJ SoKo (awesome), started his set for the night. I’d never heard him spin before, so I wanted to give him my undivided attention, at least for the beginning.

The Vulture did not. He hadn’t processed my earlier comment: “Hey, my friend’s starting. It was great meeting you! I’m sure I’ll see you around sometime.”

Nor did he understand my next comments: “Yeah, so my friend is playing now—I can’t really talk anymore”; or “For real—please leave me alone for five minutes.”

“Listen,” I said finally, “I have to tell you something if you want this to go any further….I have this weird fetish.”

The Vulture adjusted himself to exhibit his interest: “Yeah?”

I said, “I’m really into clown costumes.”

The Vulture suddenly saw one of his friends, and disappeared into the night.

Bam!

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