I’ve looked at him and registered nothing, just my own reflection in the glass that’s separating us, I didn’t notice anyone on the other side of it, not at first.
I just wanted to eat my lunch. Look, bear in mind I’ve been up since 3am, and I’ve spent a day battling my way through the exhibition. I’m fucked. I’ve had meeting after meeting – most of which have been a waste of time, and on top of that I’ve been napalming the candle at both ends.
And you’ve still got three more days-
Aaaand I’ve got another three more fucking days to go, right, so my fuse is a tad short.
Right.
All I want to do is rest my feet and eat something in peace. So, I’m over in, ah, Hall 3, I think. Quick Snak.
No, that’s Hall 4. We’re in there.
Whatever, they all look the fucking same, they all sell the same overpriced crap, and they all get rammed at lunchtime. But today I’m lucky, I’ve managed to get a seat.
Nice.
Little victories. Anyway, I’m perched at this counter, wedged between two guys, no elbow room, and just as I take a bite out of my burger I look up. There’s a screen of glass, like a foot away from my face, and on the other side is another lean-to bar. And there’s this guy eating what must be chicken, ‘cause he’s licking his fingers.
Right.
And I kinda look away, think nothing of it, it’s a bit uncomfortable being that close to a stranger, but I carry on eating, and then – here’s the thing – when he crosses my line of sight again he’s got the tip of his middle finger in his mouth – and he’s licking it.
Riiiiiight.
But not just licking it and moving on, he’s spending way too much time on it. Like, an unhealthy amount of time on it. We’re separated by a sheet of Perspex, or whatever, but this guy’s practically finger fucking his own mouth – literally two feet from mine!
Brilliant.
And I’m not sure if I’m staring at this point but I carry on eating. It’s fucking odd, but, hey, we’re all in the same boat here, right. I give the guy a break. But when I look back, he’s got his middle finger in his mouth again.
None of the others?
No. Just the middle one. The others he wipes with a serviette, so it’s clearly deliberate. Seriously, it’s fucking perverse. But he’s not going at it like a dog with a new bone, it’s more like he’s licking an… expensive envelope. Real tender.
Envelope. Brilliant.
Like this.
Aw, put it away, I don’t want to see that shit.
I wish my wife was that thorough, let me tell you. So I’m glancing around to see if anyone else is clocking it, but they’re all talking to each other. I’m the only one getting this private show. And there’s never any eye contact either. As far as I can tell he’s oblivious to me. Freaky.
How long did it go one for?
Ten minutes. He had his fucking eyes closed at one point, for fucks sake.
Sucks sake.
Very good. In the end I got sick of watching it – he was putting me off my food – so I banged on the glass.
What did he do?
Looked at me gone out. Totally non-plussed. As though nothing was amiss. He’s like, ‘What?’ So I stuck my finger in my mouth, just as everyone turns around to look at me, so now I look like the fucking pervert. He looks at me, looks at everyone else, shrugs, and then just gets up and walks off, leaving me looking like a right twat.
Sounds like it’s been the highlight of your trip.
This party certainly isn’t.
Give it half an hour and we’ll sneak out. Find a bar. Catch up on old times.
That’d be good. It’s been what, twelve years since we were at GJB?
Fifteen– actually, here’s someone you should meet.
Tom!
Tom!
How are you? Nick, do you know Tom? He’s from-
KTL
KTL, that’s right. How did you know that? Have you met?
Hmm, you could say that. He won that Home Office tender recently. The one that I was telling you about. The one that I lost to – how should we say – ‘questionable and ambiguous’ circumstances.
Oh… that one.
Yes. We also had lunch together earlier today.
…
Ah
Pl@tpav - Telling Stories 