Note: Originally, I tippity-typed this masterpiece of social commentary in April, immediately following the event. However, I thought it deserved republication here.
Being the new kid on the techie block, I figured the best way to get my feet (soaking) wet was to simply dive in head first. With the Web 2.0 Expo in town this week, there was opportunity after opportunity to rub elbows with some of Internetland’s most notorious royalty and share drinks with Web 2.0′s biggest egos. And, really, who am I to miss an opportunity of that caliber?
So, on a blustery Monday evening in this beautiful city by the bay, I summoned one of my most delightful and flirtatious bachelor friends, and off we skipped (read: hurriedly scurried because our nipples were beginning to freeze solid) to the Engage.com Love 2.0 event at Harlot.
Amidst a few jilted, over-the-shoulder conversations with another friend and machete-ing my way through the crowd so I could score a round (or three) of free mini-drinks at the bar, I couldn’t help but overhearing the end of the most curious exchange between an uncharacteristically outgoing guy (for a techie geek, anyway) and two inquisitively rapt ladies.
“…and before this, I was in the circus.”
Hmmm. My ears were perked, but my interest level didn’t progress much further than that. In fact, I didn’t think much of it until I was standing next to him in the queue for beers. Of course, at that point, my curiosity got the best of me. He also happened to know the gentleman with whom I arrived at the party, and the three of us got to talking.
After the requisite introductions were made and niceties were exchanged, the dapper don turned to my friend and bragged, “Hey, man, guess what? I just told those girls I was in the circus! Isn’t that a good one?”
“What?” I exclaimed with exaggerated disbelief and a playful slap to his arm. “You weren’t really in the circus? I believed you!”
“Oh, no, ha!” he chuckled nervously, unrolling into a shy but mischievous grin. “I only tell them that when they’re…well, you know.”
No, I didn’t know. “You know?” I asked, hoping I’d get a bit more detail.
He squirmed. “Yeah, um, you know…” he trailed off, obviously leaving me to fill in the very gaping, very obvious blank.
I took my best stab at the equation. “Ugly?” I retorted, with a smirk and a knowing look.
With a tight-lipped, sheepish smile, he confirmed my suspicions as true. I merely shook my head, and attempted to return my efforts to securing the bartender’s attention to my alcoholic pursuits.
“So,” he said, sidling up to me in jest, aiming to reduce that mountain to a molehill, “Did you know I also was a trapeze artist?”
What could I do? I laughed. “Save it, sugar. It’s not working on me!”
