For lack of a better idea, I walked out the door Thursday night into the city. You can't take it with you, I had heard but never seen. Twenty bucks out of my pocket and into The Cell. In a crowd of eight, I knew half the actors and half the audience. Hello, good to see you. You saw my movie review? Thanks. No, I haven't seen that movie. Or that one. Or that one. Go see a play and there are suddenly three movies I should be watching as well. Sit down and watch actors act. More actors than audience, but such is the way of the theatre sometimes. Lots of jokes, puts a smile on my face, applaud at the end. If you can't figure where this is going, just remember-- you can't take it with you, so relax. Congratulate actors and drift away to the Village Inn by the airport. There she is with her red streaked hair in a pony tail. I walk inside and get a hug and a table. We talk small, and I order a sandwich. She gives me extra cheese on the hash browns, and the cook comes out to grumble without looking me in the eye. I didn't even know this girl existed two weeks ago, and now I'm in Village Inn watching her drift from table to table. I finish eating and she refuses to let me pay or tip. You can't take it with you, so I give her another hug and go off the O'Niells. A couple of actors are a couple beers in the hole and I order a Guinness. What are you up to? Oh, you got the part I wanted. That's cool. It all comes around, and you can't take it with you. We laugh too loud, and a tall thin blonde comes up and gives me a long hug. Apparently, it's hug night. She wants to help at my theatre, and I say okay. I make no subtle flirtations because my head is still thinking about the VI girl. Two weeks ago, it felt like I knew no one and had nothing to do. And now, for one night at least, I'm all over the place and you can't take it with you.

For lack of better planning, I walk out the door Friday afternoon and head down to the 66 Diner. The VI girl used to work at the diner and wants to meet for a quick bite before she goes to work. I arrive and immediately notice a girl I dated two year ago sitting next the girl I've known for two weeks. How are you? What are you up to? Really. That's cool. Right on. Big smile. It's all good, and so forth. The VI girl (formerly a 66 diner girl) orders food but does not eat it. Every cook and waiter comes up and talks her. The cook with the tats and nose ring. The waiter stoner. My ex-girlfriend. The big cook just back from Carlsbad Caverns. Shake hands. Good to meet you. I eat half the girl's food. She "saves" the other half for later. I get a smattering of smooches, drop her off at her place, and go to my theatre. I'm the box guy at the Vortex and have to help take money at the door. We are putting on "Betty's Summer Vacation," and people are coming in droves. The smash hit of the season. Elsewhere, you can't take it with you plays to another handful of folks. I shake hands and take money. Good to see you. Ten dollars. Here's a program. Enjoy the show. I exit just before the show starts and drive over to the Blue Dragon to watch the poets be poets. I drop a healthy bill in the donation pot for the Albuquerque Slam Team. I'm not fond of performance poetry, and I've heard almost everyone's best efforts plenty of times already. Artistic expression is always good, even if you can't take it with you. I watch for over an hour and hightail it back to my house for a brief reprieve. A bowl from the bong, a bottle of wine, and some Slim Shady. Till the roof comes off, till the lights go out, till my legs give out, can't shut my mouth. Till the smoke clears out, and my high burns out, I'ma whip this shit, till my bones collapse. And I'm off to the Vortex to get the money. Another good night. Most profitable effort of the year at the Vortex. People like Durang plays around here. Off to Joe's for a nightcap with the director and a couple actors. Talk and drink and talk and drink and then we're done. I did these things all by myself. For two nights, surrounded by different people in different places, none of them knowing where I had been or where I was going, I hung out with dozens of people all by myself.

Chris Jungle is familiar in a familiar land.