One of the interns today walked up to me smiling and asked if I had gone out last night.

jefe: Uh yeah, actually

intern: [smile broadens] where?

At this of course I was pouring over the recollections of last night wondering what the hell she was grinning at. Had I made a fool of myself? Snubbed her?

jefe: umm.. Tylers..

intern: I was at HE's not having a beer with Michael Jordan.

jefe: [relieved] really, that's great. wow.

intern: Yeah I'm friends with some friends of his and I actually had a drink with him. The place got really crowded once everyone who was there communicated with all their people.. [etc]

As I carried on the rest of the conversation, grinning and trying to evince how impressed I was by all this, it occured to me to try and picture Michael Jordan at this particular bar. I couldn't. 'He's not' is a dive. A total dive. Its remarkable only in that it serves draft beer in 32oz blue plastic cups and that it features a large outdoor 'garden' (I use the term loosely) with picnic benches. The other odd thing is the strange mix of clientele that it attracts. Depending on the night, you may find yourself mixing with all sorts at He's not. Grungy locals, preppy b-school shits, yuppies, punk kids, etc. How these disparate groups cohabitate is a mystery to me. I guess its big enough that people can ignore/snicker at the rest of the crowd without too much of a ruckus.

Still, I can't imagine Michael Jordan at this place. The cavernous insides of the bar are truly gross, so he'd have had to sit in the "garden", but then I would imagine he'd have been mobbed by an army of salivating North Carolineans... Not too mention when the call of nature would have hailed. The men's consists of a small trough and a sink you probably don't want to touch.. gah.

fame is a mutt's game.
El Jefe