Being a former All-Star NFL player-turned-ethnographer, I'm used to getting high fives. I've probably had more high fives than anyone I know. During the NFL days, it was constant fives, thumps, pumps, and cups - nothing keeps the team strong like cupping the butt. The fives, the bumps, the contact, it gives you a high and makes you feel worthwhile. When I exited the game in my athletic prime, my biggest concern was the loss of the fives. Maybe that's why I became an ethnographer - to wander the third world where people will break out into music and dance at just the sight of me. Chimi! Bumbaye!
So while pissing in a urinal at the bar the other night, some local drunkard - with a former-navy current-politician mustache who happens to be my idol and best friend - pissing in the urinal next to mine, raised his hand and shouted something in some unknown tongue and raised his hand up towards me - he wanted a high five, WHILE PISSING. Done.
I could build some mood, noting the neon lights, the shady women in tight dresses, the slight aroma of sewage in the air, the pirate and his prostitute at the next table, the baby sitting on top of the table in the other direction ... wait, I'm doing the mood thing. Nothing matters. I got a high five while pissing and now I can die. That's it. I've high fived all over the world with women, kids, sexy women, and even women in the villages, but this tops them all.
What have you done with your life?
