Just Needed A Greek Chorus

Deacon was expecting a visitor from the past, a young man of Greek heritage who was eager to rekindle a friendship that had existed about five years ago. We had always called him Adam, though he was born a George. When the doorman announced his arrival, he said that a "Jason" was coming upstairs.

Anyway, Adam/George/Jason hadn't changed much, although he was now the father of a two-year-old daughter. After sharing a pizza, we decided at midnight to go to a bar in the East Village where a friend of a friend was having a birthday celebration. We arrive and it is PACKED with people. Adam/George/Jason doesn't look comfortable but I stay with him as we stand flattened against a wall, as the press of people make it difficult for us to follow Deacon to the bar. We wait for him to come back with drinks.

Birthday Girl and friends miraculously find me and I introduce everyone to Adam/George/Jason. Then they disperse...some to go outside to smoke, others to the bar to replenish their drinks. We wait for Deacon.

Adam/George/Jason is muttering under his breath.

A/G/J: I'm too old for this.
ALICE: For what? Being at a bar?
A/G/J: Yeah, it's too crowded and noisy and...not fun.
ALICE: We just got here. We'll find a place to sit and have our drinks and talk to the friends.
A/G/J: Yeah. Sounds good.

I see that Birthday Girl is coming back inside, her friends are following her, and Deacon has appeared with drinks in hand. We find seats at the bar and everything is now cozy except... Adam/George/Jason is gone.

We think that he went outside. No. We think that he's in the men's room. No. Wherever Deacon looks, no Adam/George/Jason. He doesn't answer his phone or his text message.

We stay at the bar for a while and when it is time to leave, Deacon does one last look around the place, in case his friend was playing a rather perverse game of hide-and-seek. But -- nothing. No Adam. No George. No Jason. We have misplaced all three.

He was supposed to have spent the night with us at the apartment, but when I arrived there, I saw that his car was gone. I can only surmise that his unhappiness at being at the bar caused him to go loco and run away, without saying goodbye. It has been three days, and Deacon has not been able to reach him.

All the world 's a stage, and all the men and women merely players. They have their exits and their entrances...

Last night, Harry and some friends were visiting and Deacon was telling them the baffling story of Adam/George/Jason. Harry was very tired and he was sporting a rather odd haircut.

ALICE: Did you have your hair cut because the job demanded it?
HARRY: Um...no. My friend cut it. I know it's uneven.
ALICE: Why did you let a friend do that?
HARRY: Well, you see, we got drunk and were fooling around and things got hot and heavy, so he cut my hair.

So. Here we have it. One friend doesn't know how to say goodbye. The other one doesn't seem to know that hot and heavy should lead to an "s" word -- and it certainly isn't scissors.