On a lunch break that same month I was accompanied by Alabama Sam.  He didn't talk, just walked beside me staring at our feet.  Although normally when I walk around downtown I prefer to be alone with my thoughts, I didn't mind the company.  I'd just wished he'd walk a little less close to me, beside the fact that I don't like strangers penetrating my personal space, he smelled like booze, and I was afraid I'd start to smell like old whiskey when I got back to the office.  

As we were waiting for a crosswalk light to change, a woman darted out in front of a UPS truck.  The screeching tires brought the scene to my attention.  She tried to jump away, but only jumped parallel to the path of the truck.  She got up screaming, red-faced, took of a heel and through it at the driver.  It bounced off the window harmlessly, and she walked the rest of the way across, discarding her shoe.  

He mumbled something unintelligible, then chuckled briefly, then the light changed.  We started walking again, I asked him what he said.  He just grunted, then asked where we were going.

Starting to feel a bit uncomfortable, I said "I'm meeting my girlfriend at 10th street, there's a coffee shop there that has an amazing turkey & bacon sandwhich."  I've never been a very social person, unless I've been drinking, so I tend to add explanations to things that don't warrant it.  It gets worse proportional to how out-of-place I feel.  Causes me to ramble.  

We turned the block that the shop was on, I, tired of all the quiet weird silence, asked him, "How much cash do you have?  I might be a bit short."  

"I'll get mine and the tip, if you don't mind the company."

"Yeah, sure," I walked a little bit faster.  Seeing Autumn would make me feel a little more comfortable, she'd seen me at my worst, and her company had become sort of a comfort blanket to me.  

I went to the counter, ordered two sandwhiches and a couple of drinks, found a table, and sat down to wait for Autumn to get there.  

"Who's this?" She asked as she sat down.

I looked at him, sort of moved my head in a way that asked him that same question.  

"Alabama Sam, Ma'am," he replied, wiped his hand on his Army issue jacket, held it out to her.  

At this point in our relationship, Autumn and I had sort of run out of things to talk about.  Aside from the non-sexual physical affection, we didn't have much of a relationship.  

Seemingly sensing that it was going to be a quiet, awkward lunch, Sam immediately started talking.  

"Each October I sell all my junk and jump a train to Alabama, spend my winters down there on the beach.  My friends call me Alabama Sam, I call them assholes."  

He kept the conversation going with small talk, asking each of us what we were going to school for, that sort of thing.  Eventually there was a lull in conversation, so I asked him what he chuckled about earlier, when the lady almost got hit by that truck.  

"Do you like the stones?"

"The stones?  What are the stones?" I replied.  

"You know, the band."

Autumn said, "Oh yeah, Rob loves the Stones."  

Her saying "the Stones" makes me cringe.  

"Yeah, I like'em."

"Well," Sam says, "There was a concert a while back where the Hell's Angels were running security for the gig, and some douchebag pulled a gun on one of the guards.  I was twenty feet away from the whole thing, and as soon as the gun was pulled, that Angel was all over the guy with the gun.  He didn't even get a shot off before he'd been stabbed a bunch'a times.  And you know when you just get a phrase that just jumps into your head, I mean, you didn't put it together, it just sort of reads itself in your mind?  Well, all I could think after that, for days, was that 'sometimes, you just don't bring a gun to a knife fight."  I couldn't get it out of my head.  I'd think it was gone after a few months, then all of a sudden, it'd just pop back in there.  Well, when that high heeled shoe bounced off that window, it just popped back in.  Sometimes, you just don't bring a gun to a knife fight."