Sunday, February 17, 2013
No one was sitting at the table, and they hadn't cleaned it up yet, so I grabbed the can, set it up in front of me, and started drawing.
Halfway into the drawing, enjoying the music and the Guinness, I glanced up to find the can was not there. The server was heading off with it.
"Pardon me," I said. "Might I have the can back?" She turned, shook the can to see that it was empty, raised an eyebrow, and handed me the can.
I labored on for another fifteen minutes and was surprised to see another hand reaching to grab it, this time a guy clearing tables.
I was quicker this time. I pulled the can to my chest. "Oh, no, please if you don't mind, I'll keep it," I said. Just to be sure, I wrapped the fingers of my left hand around the base can to keep it from being plucked away.
After that they left me with the can, but they never seemed to understand what I was doing with a piece of trash.
Posted by James Gurney at Sunday, February 17, 2013