I was working on Halloween night, which in America is asking for trouble, but in Sweden is asking to not get paid very much. It's a Swedish tradition to take the weekend of Halloween to visit the graveyards and honor your ancestors. Also, apparently a good excuse to either get wasted or watch the Shining, which is actually not so different from the norm.
The night was going by extremely slow when Michael came by. Damali, my co-worker, had met Michael when he had come by once before and was ready for him. I wasn't.
I was in the back when I heard the most sinister villainous laugh I'd ever heard in my life. I went up front to see who it was and this rough looking man was talking to Damali in questions and words strung together, but no real sentences. His voice was raspy and low and made the hair on the back of my neck stand up a little straighter. He asked Damali if he'd ever been to Berlin. Damali gave him an answer and then asked the man if he had been there. The man laughed and sort of rolled his shoulders and elbows in a little dance and then put a massive hand around Damali's head and brought him into a sort of embrace. I was shocked that Damali didn't push him off violently and even more shocked when the man was suddenly playing on the piano across the room with one hand as he stood holding his beer in the other.
There are people that just seem to be in places without actually getting there. For example someone can be standing and then sitting, but the actually act of sitting down is forgotten and replaced by their actions in their new position. This guy was like that. He twinkled on the piano something extremely optimistic for a few minutes and then did his little shoulder dance and was at the bar again. Laughing his sinister low laugh. He suddenly seemed to notice I was in the room for the first time and he looked me up and down. "You," he said in his low whispery evil voice, "you have a lot of curiosity." I stared at him directly and replied "Doesn't everybody?" I was over him by this point. I was fed up with the way he was demanding that all the attention be on him in case he did something volatile and even more so now that he was trying to be profound. At my reply he did his little shoulder dance. He talked of love and of countries. He had the look of a man who had done a little too much enjoying oneself in a late-night manor, but he looked happy about it. I couldn't take too much and kept finding excuses to go into the back. When I returned he was whispering something to Damali, then he left. I asked Damali what he had said and Damali told me "He said you have to have a purple heart."
I hope he had a place to sleep.
