I pondered boredom often after Crazy Angie and I first discussed it. I thought of every possible cure, but could come up with no activity that would interest every human being. We all have our own personal preferences, but surly there must be one that connects us all. I was determined to find it. One afternoon at Crazy Angie’s house I finally had the answer.
I knocked on her door and waited. For some reason, she took a long time in answering. I knew she was home. She never went anywhere without me. Not only that, I could hear her on the other side of the door.
“Crazy Angie? Are you there?”
“Hold on a sec!” She yelled, grunting heavily.
“What’s going on?”
“I can’t get the door open! She grunted.” I could tell she was struggling, and I thought I might offer a little advice.
“Have you unlocked it?”
A pause, and then the door opened. “I forgot.”
“I thought so.”
“Good thing you were here to remind me. I might have been locked in there forever!”
We went to her bedroom and assumed our usual places. Crazy Angie sat at her desk and continued with the phone. I always lied on her bed. I could feel my intellectual juices flowing more continuously when I was lying down.
“Where were we?” I asked her.
“Um, you were explaining how you’re sure there is one activity that everyone likes.”
“Oh, right. As I was saying—we as human beings have several things in common. Our anatomy, for example—without certain things we cease to be living beings and that—“
“I’ve got it!” Crazy Angie interrupted.
“What? Got what?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. That’s probably my fault. I’m sure this isn’t interesting for you, being mentally ill and all. I’ll try to talk about something else for a while.”
“No, no! I mean I think I know how to cure it.”
“What? Really? Well, by all means, tell me.”
“A bar?” I was confused.
“Yeah! You know, like where people go to get drunk.”
“Yes, I know what a bar is. I’m a little surprised that you do. Of course I’ve never been to one since I’m under age, but I know their basic function. What I don’t know is how a bar can possibly be the cure for boredom seeing as how there is a plethora of bars in various places in the city and yet boredom still exists.” I paused. “I know this is going to be tough for you, but can you try to explain what you mean?”
She thought for a moment, as if trying to put her thoughts in order so that they might come out clearly. Slowly, she began. “Sure, there’s lots of bars. They’re all pretty much the same…or so I’ve heard. But none of them are run by us.”
I thought for a minute.
“I see your point. We don’t run a bar. If we did, no doubt it would be quite interesting.”
“I certainly think so. Who wouldn’t love a bar run by us? We’re so…so…”
“Well, yeah. But that’s not what I meant.”
“What precisely did you mean? We’re so…what?” I asked. I wanted to know why she thought this would be perfect for us. I mean, anyone can run a bar. All you need are drunks and booze. Why should this cure boredom?
“Hmm. Yes, I suppose we are. Consequently, a bar owned by us would be likely just as original.”
“Of course it would.”
“I don’t know. It would be somewhat illegal, given our ages, don’t you think?”
“Details details! We can work our way around that.”
“Speaking of details, we’d need to come up with a few. This would have to be on heck of a bar. We’d need to figure out just what would make it so original.”
As I pondered her suggestion, my brain was grinding away. I could defiantly see the possibilities of such a bar being the cure for boredom. That would be the easy part. Finding a way to get away with it—that would be the challenge. Well, I’m always up for a challenge. If nothing else it would give us something to do.
“OK. We’ll do it,” I said. “All we have to do is find a building, spruce it up a little, get a liquor license, and we’ll be set. Of course we’ll need to do a little fund raising. We can’t buy a building and liquor with nothing.”
“Sounds simple enough. But how do we get started?”
“Well, I suggest we frequent our most interesting place of leisure.”
“The unemployment office!”
“Yes. I think there might be a person or two down there that might be able to help us. Let’s go.”
As we trudged on, the ideas were swimming in my head. This truly was a fabulous idea. I could think of so many things to make it interesting. My business sense was kicking in. Only sixteen, and already, I was an entrepreneur. Not to mention, this was probably very healthy for Crazy Angie. She needed something to make her feel productive. She probably would do much after high school without a boost to her confidence. I thought this just might be the thing to do it.