kafka on the shore

I ushered at a performance of Kafka on the Shore, adapted for the stage, at the Steppenwolf Theater. A few years ago, I read and jumbled its plot up in the swampy area of my brain reserved for Haruki Murakami's whimsies, complicated ice cream-based desserts, and early twentieth century Russian music - i.e. the place where nonsense goes to die - so my memory provided no guidance for me as I watched. I'm not sure I got anything out of the play except for a sense of Murakami's weirdness.

I stuffed programs sitting next to a funny young man with an angular face who wore a suit. His name was Patrick. He told me he worked in a spy store. I said, What the hell is a spy store? He said, Think of something a spy would have, and we sell it there. I said, Shoes with daggers that come out of them. He said, Well no, we're a kid-friendly store. Turns out he was talking about the "Boring Store," which is a place about a five-minute walk from my house.

Patrick said he tutored kids in creative writing and was applying to graduate programs in creative writing himself. He also said he moved to Chicago from Indiana to try to be an improv actor. He was not obnoxious like the one other improv actor I have met: that one subletted a room from A and just got stoned and drunk with his 22 year-old friends every night to prepare for "psychadelic improv" and would do things like fall asleep sitting upright on the couch with his mouth wide open, cradling a two-thirds empty jug of generic brand whole milk. In contrast, Patrick was friendly and funny, and he tore tickets while I passed out programs and said, "Watch your step! Enjoy the show." over and over again.

He had funny mannerisms that endeared him to people. I studied them. He said, "Howdy!" really loudly when taking their tickets and gesticulated in slapstick ways (e.g. he flicked the ticket with an exaggerated motion of his index finger when telling patrons where their seats were located) and most people walked away from him with a smile. We sat together during the show, and then I left during the post-show Q&A.

Several months later, I walked into the Boring Store. I heard Patrick's voice (he was helping out a customer) but I did not see him. I turned tail and fled the storefront, because I became suddenly afraid of not having anything to say to him.