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A Chance Meeting in Scranton
It was a typical summer day in Scranton, Pennsylvania back in 1988. The heat was rising off the pavement and sweat was beginning to pool on my brow. I had woken up that morning with dreams of wine dancing in my head. That afternoon there was to be a wine tasting convention at the downtown civic center - an event I looked forward to every year.
As I walked the few blocks from my apartment, the familiar sounds of the city greeted me. Car horns blaring, loose manhole covers rattling in the street, pigeons cooing on the power lines overhead. Scranton was far from glamorous but it was home. Most folks here eked out a living however they could, whether it be working the mills or hustling in less savory ways. You had to keep your wits about you.
Just as I rounded the corner onto Hampton Road, I felt a rough shove from behind. Instinctively, I swung around to see a disheveled figure scampering off down the sidewalk with my leather wallet in hand. "Hey, that's my wallet!" I shouted after the thief in vain. All those years paying taxes and this is the thanks I get. But there was little else I could do - calling the cops would be futile and chasing him myself seemed like a good way to end up with a knife in my back.
Dejected, I continued down the road with empty pockets. At least I still had my wino buzz to look forward to. The doors of the civic center soon came into view, its arched entryway beckoning me inside like the pearly gates of heaven. Stepping into the cool, dimly lit foyer was a respite from the heat. I signed in at the registration table and made my way to the main hall where rows of tables displayed all manner of grapes in their fermented glory.
It was 1988, the city of Scranton was filled with a thousand thieves with your usual homeless bums and alley cats in every nook and cranny...
I began perusing the tables, taking small sips from various glasses to try and forget about my stolen wallet. A bold Cabernet caught my eye, dark as the night itself. I took a swig and was not disappointed - it was damn good juice.
As the alcohol smoothed its way through my system, I began to relax my nerves frayed from the morning's events. I chatted with some of the other connoisseurs, exchanging opinions on tannins and terroir. Nearly an hour must have passed before I realized how many samples I had drained. The room was starting to spin ever so slightly.
It was then that I noticed a stranger standing across the aisle, imposingly dressed in a black suit and cowboy belt. Our eyes met briefly before I looked away, embarrassed by my wine-soaked state. But as I turned to leave, visions of dollar bills dancing in my head, a commotion erupted by the entrance.
Two men were wrestling violently on the ground, a small crowd gathering around them. I recognized one as my wallet-snatching assailant from earlier. The other, his face now obscured by a mass of flying fists, was none other than Mr. Cowboy Belt himself. "That's for the fifty bucks and taking my girl!" he roared before delivering one final punch that sent the thief crumpling into unconsciousness.
The convention staff quickly separated the two, dragging my Would-be robber outside to the sounds of cheering onlookers. All eyes then turned to the victor as he dusted himself off, straightening his disheveled jacket. It was then our gazes met again, and with liquor-loosened lips I declared "Jesus Christ, that robber almost got me. I felt like he was gonna do weird stuff to me."
The stranger chuckled. "Well, the no good son of a bitch cheated on my ex-wife last year, so I guess you could say you're lucky I didn't like him much."
He extended a hand my way. "Name's Todd Packer. You looked like you could use a pick me up after your run in with that scumbag."
I shook it firmly. "Michael Scott. And a pick me up is surely what I need after the morning I've had." I gestured to the empty wine glasses littering my table.
Todd surveyed the aftermath with amusement. "A man of refined tastes, I see. Why don't you join me for a beer down at Poor Richards, help wash all that vino down. Drinks are on me for doing the city a favor."
How could I refuse such an offer? And so that's how I found myself steering clear of the afternoon heat and into the dimly-lit cool of Moe's bar. Todd secured us a corner booth and soon returned balancing two frosty mugs.
"To new friends and thieves getting their due. And to lady's with big boobs and to giant erections and a good car where you can rub your sweet ass man," he proposed, raising his drink. I echoed the toast with a grateful smile.
"Amen to that, brother" i said back
As our glasses clinked, I had a feeling this chance meeting with the mysterious Todd Packer may lead to further adventures in Scranton. For better or worse, the future remained unseen. But for now, the beer was cold and company good. And in 1988, that was plenty.
Todd wasted no time in scanning the bar for a target of his affections. His roving eyes soon landed on a pretty blonde nursing a martini by the jukebox.
"Check out the gams on that dollface," he elbowed me with a nudge. Before I could offer a word of caution, Todd swaggered over to lay on the charm as thick as his wallet.
I watched from afar, nursing my beer, as the exchange quickly soured. Todd's lingering hand on her shoulder was not appreciated it seemed. Within seconds, a Meaty fist Came flying through the air and landed square on Todd's jaw with a sickening crunch. He collapsed to the floor in a heap.
I nearly spit out my drink, laughing so hard I had tears in my eyes. Making my way over to the downed Casanova, I extended a hand. "Wow, she's fiesty. Looks like you were locked in with a tiger?"
Todd glared up at me, wiping blood from his rapidly swelling lip. "Ah shut it, loudmouth. Just help me up already before I really give that mug of yours something to laugh about."
With some effort, I hoisted Todd's arm over my shoulder and helped him limp towards the exit, flipping off his scowling assailant as we departed.
Once outside in the fading sunlight, Todd leaned heavily against me. "Thanks buddy. I think that meathead rearranged my face good."
"Don't mention it. But let's get you patched up," I suggested. And so began our walk back to my apartment, Todd Packer hanging off me like a bleeding trophy of poor decisions. It was sure to be an eventful night.
Todd groaned as I tightened the makeshift bandage around his head. "Easy there nurse, I think my brains are starting to leek out my ears."
The streets of Scranton were busy as the evening rush hour began. Dodging inebriated locals out for a night on the town, I struggled to maneuvers Todd's deadweight along the sidewalk.
"Packer, c'mon man work with me here!" I grunted, hoisting his limp arm further over my shoulders. But he only moaned in response.
Without warning, Todd's legs gave out and he collapsed like a sack of potatoes, sprawling spread-eagle across the pavement. Pedestrians swerved around us, cursing colorfully.
"Pack-Man, hey!" I snapped my fingers in front of his unfocused eyes. "Lift yourself up, I can't carry your whole carcass."
A garbled "lift me" was all I got in return. With a weary sigh, I grabbed his outstretched hand and heaved back with all my might. Todd grunted as his torso left the ground, but his backside remained stubbornly in place.
It was then a deep, guttural belch bubbled up from within Todd's core and spread forth like a noxious cloud. The stench of ale and day-old hot wings assaulted my nostrils and I gagged.
"Oh dear god man, what did you last eat?! A garbage disposal?" I cried, waving the foul air from my face. By now onlookers were openly laughing at my pain carrying that lard ass. With an almighty pull, I somehow managed to hoist Todd fully into a fireman's carry. His breath was rank like an open sewer in my ear as he mumbled incoherently.
It was going to be a long haul getting him home in one piece.
Once satisfied with my handiwork, I helped him limp to the guest bed and collapse onto the lumpy mattress with another groan. Flicking on the radio for some late night noise, I busied myself cleaning the night's grime from the kitchen.
"The Scranton News Tonight. If you're snoozing this time at night, you're probably a virgin," crackled the announcer with a dry chuckle.
"Shut this thing off, will ya?" Todd called out irritably from the other room.
I clicked off the radio with a wry smile and poke my head into the bedroom. Todd was splayed out limp as a rag doll, eyes already drifting shut.
"Well get some rest tough guy. And try not to hemorrhage onto my sheets, ya hear?"
Todd mumbled something unintelligible, face squished into the pillow. "See you around, sport," he sighed as sleep swiftly claimed him.
Shaking my head in amusement, I grabbed a spare blanket and bedded down on the couch. It had been one hell of an eventful day thanks to my chance meeting with Todd Packer. But somehow I suspected this unlikely friendship was only just beginning.
The morning sun streaming through the blinds woke me with a start. Stretching out the night's kinks, I shuffled into the kitchen where Todd was already rummaging through the meager contents of my cabinets.
"Sleep well?" I asked, wiping the grit from my eyes. Todd merely grunted around a mouthful of stale cereal, shoving a ragged business card across the table.
"Dunder Mufflin," I read aloud. "A company for champions, not chumps." I glanced up skeptically. "And what exactly does Dunder Mufflin do?"
Todd took a long drag from his usual morning cigar, blowing a cloud of fragrant smoke towards the ceiling. "Paper sales, my naive friend. The real money is in supplies, and I've got a sweet sales gig there if you're man enough to handle it."
"I appreciate the offer Todd, but I'm happy enough at my job at Men's Warehouse. You know, suits for suits?"
Packer barked a laugh. "Men's Warehouse? Christ, Michael you could do better than flogging polyester to meatheads. I'm telling you, this is where the winners work. Think about it, eh?"
With that, he ground out his cigar and slid from the table, clapping me hard on the shoulder. "See you around, sport. And try not to miss me too much!"
And just like that, Todd Packer swept back out of my life as abruptly as he'd barged in. But his offer was certainly one worth considering...