On the elevator was this other guy. He was simultaneously impressive yet unremarkable. Like, he had a kind of rockstar vibe, but without any kind of distance or social caginess about him.
He was listening to Soul Coughing on his headphones. "Irresistable Bliss." We nodded pleasantly.
Someone else got in the elevator on the eighth floor, and started fawning over him and he seemed troubled and awkward and I was glad to be out of there, looking for concrete heads.
Half an hour later, in the parking lot, I saw him again. He was parked in a car next to mine; a mid-sized American sedan. We smile at each other, and I asked, "You're someone famous, aren't you?"
"Kind of," he admitted, "I'm the Reasonable Man with No Prior or Special Knowledge."
I gestured for him to continue. He didn't seem in a hurry.
He went on, "The concept has been central to law for so long that it's taken on an identity. This Reasonable Man is my maitre de tete. An accident of birth, I guess, but I'm chosen by that ideal, or maybe I embody it."
"So why are you at a Voodoo superstore?" I asked him.
He sighed. "Before I answer that, I have a few questions for you...."
Here's what he asked me:
Are you an introvert or an extrovert?
Do dolls and/or mannikins creep you out?