The smoke. I couldn’t tell you from source is worse, the drifting ash from the worst fires to grace the California landscape in all of recorded history, or the haze being generated from the various patrons surrounding me.

I’m sitting out on the back patio of the Powerhouse Pub in downtown Folsom where Pat Martin’s 30th-anniversary celebration is taking place. The music, a mix of popular 80’s music like Van Halen and Def Lepard, playing nostalgically.

Thirty years… I’m getting old. Pat Martin doesn’t remember but way back in 1989 I used to intern at the radio station for the long forgotten Pamela Roberts. It was a short-lived stint, Pam didn’t stay that long at the station and so my fledgling internship came to an end even before it really got started.

Who am I?

I’m a nobody.

I’m a fan.

Back in the late 80’s I used to have my own show at our high school radio station and so got it in my head that this was something I wanted to pursue. It wasn’t to last. I was the responsible kid that held a job, as a teller at a now-defunct bank, and had the salary to pay for the concert tickets and the taco bell for my friends. The friends I no longer have sitting here thirty years later by myself at an event all by myself.

My own wife, whom I didn’t know back in the day, chose not to attend as she had other responsibilities. She is a member of our kids PTA and elected to attend one of those meetings than to come here with me. She chose wisely.

As much as I was a quasi-metal head back in the days, I was also the responsible one. Did I mention that I was the sober driver? That’s the thing when you are the one with the car, you tend to not trust others with the keys after seeing how they act when under the influence of unmentionable substances. Yeah, I still had my fun. Releasing bottle rockets at night out of the window of a vehicle driving at 65 along highway 80 was awesome. That is until one of them just happened to fly its way back inside of our window and scare the shit out of us when it exploded.

Yeah, I’m the guy that sits on the edge of a crowded pub and elects to write his life while other people are living their lives out around me.

I’ve always been a people watcher.

I… enjoy it.

It also taught me how to poke back but that is another ongoing story that I’ve already gone over a number of times.

Walking the mall used to be one of my favorite past times, not because I was shopping, but because it allowed me to study the human animal in what could be deemed as a quasi-natural setting. I mean ‘chicks’ did get dolled up to ‘cruise’ the mall and check out the guys.

Am I any different?

Am I boring?

It’s 8:14 pm and people are already starting to leave. From my seat I overheard a couple discussing where they had parked and driving through a taco bell before picking up the kids as they have to get to work tomorrow.

I am exactly where I need to be.