It's "That" Guy

There he is. Just sitting there. Breathing too loudly... with his mouth open. It’s “that” guy. There are a small (but highly visible) subset of people that seem to defy categorization but we all instantly recognize them as somehow not a part of the world around them. They walk among us, in fact they stand out among us, but we simply don’t know what to do about it. It’s not like an obnoxious guy who’s loud and tells off color jokes at the wrong moment, but it’s close. And it’s certainly as, if not more, irritating--because you can’t quite dismiss him as a jerk and move on... you have to deal with it.

He doesn’t spill his drink all over the place so much as he sloshes some of it over the side of his glass when he sets it down. He doesn’t fart in public, but there is an odor about him, not B.O. per se’ but just… something. You want to believe that the elastic waistband pants he is wearing is the result of his strong desire for comfort, and there’s an element of truth in that, but you also get the sense that part of him thinks it’s stylish. He’s not trying to stand out or make a statement, but he’s subconsciously aware that he doesn’t fit in. Most importantly, he has absolutely no idea that he affects the people around him. He sees himself as a ghost who doesn't actually affect the physical world of the living. But instead of Caspar the Friendly Ghost, it’s a ghost that CAN affect the world around him and it’s the ghost of Godzilla tromping through life like it’s downtown Tokyo.

This is the guy who always mumbles and is so used to repeating himself that he does it even when people (in rare cases) actually understand what he was saying the first time. But here’s the really irritating part--when you don’t understand him and ask him to repeat what he just said (again), he says it exactly the same way at the same volume he did the first two times. As if it’s you that need to turn up your hearing or turn down the ambient noise of the environment around you.

Last night I was playing poker at my local card club and “that guy” sat down next to me. I shouldn’t say “sat down”, I should say “aggressively plopped down” and then let out a big sigh. As with most of his ilk he was on the heavy side (but not that heavy) so everything he does seems to be done with a great deal of effort. But again, the grunts and groans and sighs that accompany his actions are out of synch with the timing and the amount of effort they truly involve. He immediately started talking on his phone which you can’t do at the table. Everyone, I mean everyone in this loud casino can hear every word, but the second he starts talking to the dealer or the waitress or the other players, no one can understand him. He’s a bad poker player. He never folds and loses $200 in about an hour. He’s baffled by how unlucky he is. It’s like watching someone repeatedly hit themselves on the hand with hammer while trying to put a nail through a piece of concrete… except he’s not holding a nail.

As he spreads his legs to get comfy, he moves the little drink cart in between us out of his way and shoves it right next to me. Not actually touching me… just about a tenth of a centimeter from touching me--just enough to make me move my chair over, but not enough to be overtly confrontational. He orders a Pepsi and the dinner special. That went something like this:

That Guy: Hey, hey! [to waitress about 10’ away]
Waitress: [looks over at him]
That Guy: “Yeah. The turkey. The turkey dinner. Can I get the Turkey dinner? And Pepsi”
Waitress: [comes over] “You want the dinner special?”
That Guy: [mumbles] “Yeah. What’s that come with?”
Waitress: “I’m sorry, what?”
That Guy: [mumbles] “Yeah. What’s that come with?”
Waitress: [guessing]“What’s the Turkey Dinner come with?"
That Guy: “Yeah”
Waitress: "Well it’s turkey and stuffing and mashed potatoes and corn.”
That Guy: [mumbles] “And a Pepsi.”
Dealer: “Sir it’s your turn to act. Sir. Sir. Excuse me. Sir it’s your turn to act” (the table has been waiting this whole time because he chose to do this when it was his turn).
Waitress: “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
That Guy: “What?”
Waitress: "You wanted something else?”
That Guy: "No that’s fine."
Waitress: [walks away]
That Guy: [shouts] “PEPSI!”
Waitress: [Comes back and gives him a Pepsi.]

Needless to say, I was forced to leave and have a cigarette just to deal with the stress of the situation.

When I got back there he was... eating. He had placed his cel phone in the drink cup on the little tray in between us. Not the drink cup on his side, but the one on mine, where my drink had been all night. So do I move his phone to his drink cup or do I place my drink on his side and risk having him drink my Pepsi? Of course, his Pepsi isn’t in any drink cup, it’s balanced on the edge of the tray table. I chose to move his phone. There’s five little corn giblets in my drink holder, but none anywhere else. The entire time he is eating, he completely forgets he is actually playing poker as well; he turns away from the table and just starts eating. When it’s his turn the dealer must once again say: “Sir it’s your turn to act. Sir. Sir. Excuse me. Sir it’s your turn to act.” He fumbles with his cards (which now have gravy on them) and throws the wrong amount of chips into the pot, one of which rolls across the table into someone else's chips. This happens… EVERY SINGLE FUCKING TIME.

Needless to say, he eventually ran out of money and his complaining about his bad luck combined with his uninspiring speeches about how it’s “only money and sometimes you just don’t get the cards”, trails off into the distance as he places the stub of an unlit cigar with about one inch remaining into his mouth and walks toward the men’s room, where he will no doubt interact with the people in it.

God help them.