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The final part of this trilogy;

in which a woman approaches while I'm working, I do not tell her to piss off, I meet her after work, wish I had been mean to her right away, and eventually find happiness on the streets of Halifax.

Hell's Kitchen, Saturday night. I detected a sexual presence in the room. She and her friend invited me to join them, but I told them I was on the job.

Then the band started up. I went and sat at the console. She sat down beside me and began to talk. Seemed friendly enough but perhaps a tad oblivious. Was it not obvious that I needed both ears for the work I was doing?

She asked where I was from and I told her, "New Brunswick."

"That's too bad," she said.

Distant early warning. It's a bit of a social risk to put down someone's home.

It's not that I was insulted, but a little window popped up in my head that said, "This woman has sketchy social skills. If you hung out with her, she'd probably embarrass you."

Anyway, she bought me a drink and I did wind up talking to her for a while after work. A nurse. One of the touchy-feely people; always with her hands on my waist or my elbow or my shoulder.

A little drunk. Horny too, I'd have to say. The topic of the conversation quickly turned to sex. She asked me if I got picked up all the time working at a place like the Marquee. I said, "Yep." She found that intriguing.

She seemed to think she was much smarter than everyone else in the bar because she'd gone to university for six years.

"I went to university for six years," I said.

"No, you didn't," she said.

"How do you know?"

"Because I'm smart."

"You're not as smart as you think you are."

"You're working as a sound technician," she said. "If you had gone to university for six years, you wouldn't be doing sound at the Marquee."

"I think I've just been insulted," I said.

I started to leave and go downstairs. Suddenly she was all grabby hands and apologies. I thought I was actually going to have to say, "Please remove your hands from my person."

Grr, this stupid bar. Finally I escaped. I went and stomped down the stairs. Stomp, stomp, stomp.

Again, I wasn't really that insulted by what she said. It was actually a relief to have an excuse to get away. I was just afraid she'd come down and try to find me. Fortunately I found someone else first...

I'm pleased to relate that the story of this evening has a happy ending. It involves a lovely lady. And an alleyway, and a phone booth, and the back parking lot of a North End building, where no one could see what was happening...