Tuesday, October 11, 2011

Listen to drunks



  “Laws are not the fabric of this society,” he averred. “What is it that keeps you from robbing me? The law? I believe not.”
  The guy was drunk but still kind of eloquent. A professorial Boston drunk in the hotel bar where I’d come for a quiet martini. “What keeps you from robbing me?” he insisted.
  “I don’t want to rob you.” He nodded and said, “You behave decently because you want to, not because it’s the law.”
  “You’re talking about civility?” I ventured.
  “You think civility’s a wimp word, right?” he said. “It’s not. It’s all we’ve got. Know why? Cause without it there aren’t enough cops. If enough of us want to rob each other, there aren’t enough cops. We rely not so much on the law as on one another’s goodness.” We both took a sip. “Fabric of society,” he mused. “Damned useful metaphor. Civility’s the fabric and we’re all weavers.”
  The bartender came over. “You gents want another?” I was staying at the hotel and said yeah. The professional guy said no and slid off the barstool, weaving a pattern all his own
  “You’re not going to drive, are you?”
  He shook his head. “MTA,” he said. “Subway. I enjoyed talking to you.”
  He was gone leaving a renascent nimbus where he had been.


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