Everyone turns to look at him.
Short cropped white hair and a white goatee on a white face marked him his as a tourist.
"Any of y'all write?" he asks.
Johnny O, Whitley, Phil, Car Queer, and Caroline all point directly at me.
"He does," they yell in unison.
"I got 9000 followers on Twitter," he says looking straight at me. "You?"
"What?" I ask. There is no way in hell this country bumpkin has that many followers. "Couple of hundred," I answer with a shrug.
"I'm a poet," he continues. "You?"
"Ummm," I mutter, not really wanting to talk. "I'm all over the place."
"I've got one book published," he says plowing ahead. "You?"
"Eight," I answer.
He sits up straight exclaiming "Eight?"
Caroline places coffee in front of him and asks if he wants to order.
"Naw," he dismisses her, "we gonna eat at the Ocean Plaza where we're staying. My wife loves it. HEY, you work there!" he says to Johnny O. "Maintenance?"
"Front Desk Manager," Johnny replies.
"Y'all got pizza? My wife loves pizza."
Johnny gets up and leaves and Caroline jerks the menu from him.
"I've only made about $2 off my book," he says returning his attention to me. "You?"
"A little more than that," I tell him.
"You on Facebook?" he asks, returning his attention to me.
"Yep," I answer.
"How many friends you got?"
"Couple of thousand," I say.
"Couple of thousand!" he exclaims. "I want to be Facebook friends. You?"
Caroline immediately handed me a pen and paper with a devilish smile. I could kill her.
So we swap names and later in the day become Facebook friends. Sure enough, he's a poet and writes daily. He also has 9000 followers on Twitter which blows my mind. He manages a Facebook group called "Poetry Pad" of which I'm now a member. He has endorsed me on Twitter and I'm reading his poems every day. He and Sarah are now Facebook friends.
All of which goes to prove ... you really can't judge a book by it's cover.
