...and this guy comes in with like four other people. They are talking about wrestling moves, and it's pretty clear they are indy guys getting sandwiches after a show or something. It's like 3 guys and two chicks, one of whom is pregnant.
So the big guy (who I'm guessing is the promoter) is buying them sandwiches ($5 footlongs for all!) and after he gets done he just kind of stares at me.
Like, a lot.
Like - he's still staring at me a couple of minutes later when I look up again.
He's turned around facing away from the sub counter and just looking at Lise and I, and we're the only other people in this Subway at 10:00PM on a Sunday.
What the fuck? I haven't posted a picture here in at least 5 years. I know I'm not famous. Yet, this indy guy is looking at me very intently. Either he knows who I am, or he's looking for a tall, fat redneck to have his guys beat up, and he thinks he's found paydirt.
We found his myspace later and it was indeed the promoter / owner of a small fed.
One of my mates shelled out his $40 and we watched. I really wish it could have been the old Mike who could actually box a bit. He was never a stylist, but he could make guys miss. That appears to be ancient history though.