Chinese George's Annoying Adventures

[Philadelphia’s Friendly Lounge on 3/17/16. Jimmy, in the middle, is dead.]

At Philly’s Friendly Lounge, there was a semi regular, Chinese George, who only showed up on Sundays, when he drove down from mostly blue blooded Blue Bell to shop at an Oriental supermarket near the Italian Market. A retired insurance executive, George was loaded enough to travel often, so weeks would go by when we didn’t see him at all. Appearing again, George would offhandedly talk about Azerbaijan, Khazakhstan or Xinjiang, you know, places no one has ever heard of, much less been to. It was annoying enough to hear George go on about visiting his girlfriend in Hong Kong.

I must add George was no raconteur. Tales of whores knocking on his hotel door had no caked over wrinkles, bad, dishonest English, too tangy perfume, foreplay or climax, just knocks, then an amused shrug.

To expose his girlfriend to some South Philly snail fish, cusk eels and other bottom feeders not yet classified, George dragged her into Friendly once. We tried our best to not subject this fine, petite lady to our bad breath and worse manners. Suddenly, Felix Giordano sounded like Pope John Paul I. Johnny the Hat didn’t growl or leer. I didn’t extend my paw, dilate my eyeballs or lean forward. There wasn’t even seemingly accidental skin contact.