Chinwig

The fourth (unsolicited) chinwig grab occurred last night. El Capitan and I are in an Irish bar finishing the night off early with a last beer. He is Mindfolding the patio while I am looking over the terrace feeling the friday night's pregnancy of revelry readying to explode like streamers into the dark night. The neons colors and overlapping of loud musics thickening the air. I am caught up and floating more than standing, until a short frenchman speaking english that I am not listening to has breached our night. He's trying to cheers us, El Capitan makes a deft move of raising his glass within millimeters of a perfect, mug-centered clink with the man's. Now he is turning his fragmented attention to my distance and pulls me back into my body with harsh sounds, which I find to be him speaking to me when I turn to give him an empty look.

He tries to raise his glass to me, but I am more interested in the distance between things right now, than bringing them together. So I turn away from this intrusion. He doesn't understand or thinks I am being funny, but I speak not a word and turn back to the night that has swelled more in my absence. He's trying again and I am wasting valuable thoughtspace ignoring him so I turn again to say No, when he grabs the chinwig and gives me a swift waggle.

That settles it, I hold up my mug to his lowered glass of some sort of liquor and cocacola drink on ice. This makes it simple to clink my glass at a higher angle than his and pour a good dollop of my beer into his drink. In his condition there was no way for his eyes to reach all the way down to his hands to catch this so we both turn away happy.

I go back to staring at the sky above the city and hear it calling me to dreams. We leave our beers unfinished and head back to the room.

Seriously, what is with this? Four men have waggled me by my chin in the last month.
(How can I get the ladies to join in?)