Saturday night.  

I walked into the eye and Mike Irwin made a bee line towards me.  Christ, now what?

“Hey,” said Mike.

“Hey,” I said, and started towards the basement.

“Wait!  Wait!” said Mike holding up his hands.  “I know – look – look – I know what you’re thinking – what I said to you the other night – that was messed up – about being a kid and hanging out and everything.  That was wrong.  Way out of line.”

“It’s fine.  No big deal.”

“Yeah.  Yes it is.  It is a big deal.  It was stupid.  Fucked-up.  I mean, who am I?  Who am I saying that kind of bullshit?  Who the fuck do I think I am?”

“It’s really – it’s not – ”

“I’m an asshole.  I mean it.  And I’m sorry.  I formally apologize.  That’s what this is – a complete, formal apology.”

“That’s okay.  Really.”

“Listen – you only go around once, y’know?  You need all the friends you can get.”

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