No typos either. Solid story. Finding your glasses tied this in a nice little bow. Emotional roller coaster.
Couple of clarifications:
1. It is possible that I may not have been carrying my camera and instead ran back home a couple of blocks to fetch it.
2. I didn't find the glasses that were lost and stomped on at the show. I was able to retrieve my spare pair from my luggage that was stored at a different friend's place. Thank goodness I brought a spare pair.
3. Years later, I read the novel, but didn't really like it. I'm just not a Nick Cave guy.
4. At best, I may have kissed someone that summer. No head or bush. A wasted opportunity.
5. Maybe tonight I'll look for the picture and post it here if I can find it.
6. A week later, I flew back to the States. I flew to JFK, took a shuttle to Port Authority at some weird hour, and made my way into the bus station to take a bus to get me closer to home. I got turned around and while trying to find my bearings, this sketchy dude grabbed my suitcase and decided he was going to be my porter. I tried to get my bag from him, first by asking, then forcefully. But he insisted on not giving it back and instead carrying it for me. When we got to my gate he started singing "Tip, tip. tip." And cheap Space that I am, I told him "I'm not giving you a tip, you grabbed my bag and wouldn't give it back when i asked for it back." For the next five minutes or so, he started chanting "College boy! College boy. I could have been anyone. I could have killed you. And I didn't, and you won't give me a tip for carryng your bag. Fucking college boy." Finally, I reached into my bag, gave him my signed copy of And the Ass Saw the Angel, and told him, Here's your fucking tip, the title sums this situation up perfectly. Guess which one you are."