The other day Wes barfed three times over brunch at Bocca Lupo with some new parent friends of ours. It was nice of him to contribute to the conversation. I think that’s what it was. He kept trying to make interesting and insightful counterpoints, but puke just kept coming out.
He’s a good barfer, the boy. It just falls out of his face, and he’s right back in his groove, like, what? I’m good. I think the nonchalance is working for him. Isn't that what they say about doing bad things in public? The more obvious you are, the less people notice. Like crack smoking. Or adults on razor scooters.
I barf and tell people for the next two hours to get sympathy, or to leave work, or to not have to do chores. Not Wes. He just blasts away. And he’ll do it anywhere too. The couch, the bed, the favorite t-shirts, over brunch, wherever.
Anyway, the waitresses were very nice about it, supplying us with plenty of extra napkins. And they had nice, thick, barf-cleaning napkins, come to think of it.
We should go back to that place. So we can tell them how well their napkins clean up barf.
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