Improv and burgers

For a few hours I was cool. I was at the raised round booth with a solid wood table at the south west wall of Yesterdays, a local and better quality TGIF type place. I was there with friends from our short lived improv troupe. Usually we met in someones apt, the kind that’s payed for by magic. The kind with very little furniture, including a few turned over card board boxes with fancy cloth on them as well as an old cold cup of coffee and a full ash tray. If you were to look up from your perch while sitting near such a table, you’d see sitting on the window ledge a wooden incense burner with 1/4 of a stick left and the wormy crumpled ashes below, not all landing in the intended tray. Maybe that was just an image of 20 somethings in the 90’s around my neighborhood, but it was common.
But tonight we were celebrating after a great show, feeling close and happy. The audience had been large and appreciative, offering compliments at show’s end. We thought this was the beginning of something big (it actually lasted only a few more weeks due to major disunity and hurt feelings). We had a few dollars and little sense (I’m 37 now, and think about reality in terms of budgets and sustainable situations).
I almost got away from the point I was heading for. There we were, hunched over incredible nachos, melted cheese, tomatoes, guacamole…, enormous juicy cheese burgers covered in dripping amounts of ketchup, mustard, and mayo, thick with pickles and onions on a fat white bread bun, chunky, perfectly browned french fries on the side. We sipped our sugary sodas between bites, between jokes, between happy glances whenever our eyes met. I remember Meghan, Jason, Sam and the slightly older balding guy who seemed to have more experience and better ideas than the rest of us (can’t remember his name any more).
I felt like I was in a commercial.