not a hoagie....

she hears him telling me a story, so she comes to sit and listen. she's heard the story before, one of a recent encounter with another doctor in his building. he's telling me how while in the elevator this other doc is on the cell phone gabbing away and so distracted that he's gotten on an UP elevator when he wants to be going DOWN, and then when he realizes it he's hemming and hawing about it while still on the phone, and then he starts using tae kwon do moves to reach around and hit elevator buttons with his feet instead of using his hands. we muse about the security camera in the elevator and what part of any of this fiasco it captured. i start to chime in new endings for his story mid-way, he starts making up lines for the doc to be saying and says them with the overlap/delay of a japanese warrior movie. she sees us playing off one another and laughing till we're gasping for air. she's laughing (at us more than she's laughing at the story) and then gently shaking her head she says: "you bring out a side of him that i rarely see." (i start to suppress my laughter into a semi-stunned silence) "really, i never see him laugh so hard as when you two get together," she concludes.

at first i thought she kinda said it in that "he never has a second cup of coffee at home" sort of way, which made me giggle until i sensed a hint of sadness (or was it resentment?) in her voice and the expression on her face as she uttered those words across the xmas day luncheon table. hard to believe that now, more than two decades later, she utters this fact like it's a revelation -- despite knowing us and knowing that we share a special bond, that we're always on the same wavelength, and that both of us are jackasses at heart (these facts are not secrets).... i shrugged and said the only thing i could in response, something i have said time and time again... "we're cut from the same cloth, and he's my hero".