"We're doing fantastic so far," I answered.

Later she asked, "So if I ask you to call me, then you will?"

"Sure."

We went back inside for another drink. She couldn't recall what the R. in my name stood for and got out the business card I got her. She accidentally dropped it. I pulled out another card and put it on the bar in front of her. She said it was all right and she'd get the old on off the floor.

After finishing our drinks we decided to go out and grab a bite to eat. When I cranked the CD player on, she immediately started singing along with a confused look on her face. "Is this. you listen to Cross Canadian Ragweed?!"

Our excellent start had just gotten better.

We talked about Cross Canadian Ragweed, Jason Boland, and other Oklahoma musicians as we drove to Katz's on 6th Street. We talked more about ourselves at the restaurant, our families, our philosophies.

Generally, that was the point in talking to someone where I become uncomfortable. When a relationship is imminent, I start getting scared. I didn't let myself that night, even as I become more sober as the night wore on.

We kissed goodbye and said we'd see each other the next day.

I brought it on myself I guess that I shouldn't complain
Doc says son you can't do anymore of that cocaine

I had a knot in my stomach when I woke up. The hangover was in the head. The
knot in my stomach was something else entirely. The feeling that I had not covered all of my bases. The knowledge that I did not have her phone number. The knowledge that I'd told her I'd call her. The memory of seeing the card still sitting by the barstool when I left the hotel the night before. The belief that if I was hung over, she was probably in Hell (she'd drank more than I had). The prediction that she would not make it before 3pm when the con closes.

I stuck in the main area until 3:30 or so when I finally gave up and left. I thought about trying to find out her number, but any time I thought of her name, all I could think of was Shawn Fitch. But her name isn't Fitch, and I can't remember for the life of me what it is.

She treated me nice and I'd like to find her again
But I OD'd in Denver and I just can't remember her name
I kinda overdid it in Denver and I just can't remember her name

[Italicized lyrics by Hank Williams Jr., "OD'd in Denver"]