Stories

My friend Siva once said: "Life is all about collecting really good stories."

I agree. And it's appropriate that he said that because Siva figures into a lot of my favorite stories from college days in Austin.

One winter evening in 1988, Siva, Diane and I were at the Tavern Air Conditioned (don't ask, it's a really old bar) drinking. We were sitting next to a window that looks out over the intersection of 12th and Lamar Street. Siva and Diane had their backs to the window. And I was facing the window, but wasn't paying much attention to what was going on outside since Siva and Diane and I were likely involved in some deep conversation about whether Richard Marx was going to have an enduring musical career.

At some point, I look out the window and see a late 1970's model Chevrolet completely engulfed in flames. Not kind of on fire --- this car was a huge fucking ball of fire. The driver was standing next to his car wondering what to do. Finally I say: "Look. That guy's car is on fire."

Siva jumps into action. But Diane and I stay put, not caring to get blown up. Siva goes outside and has a very short conversation with the guy. The burning car guy won't move. So Siva returns inside the bar. And as soon as he's in the doorway, Siva yells: "Does anybody here speak Portuguese?" The bartender says: "I do!"

What are the odds?

Bartender eventually deals with burning car guy and presumably tells the motorist in his native tongue to move far far away from his inferno of a vehicle.

But it was really Siva who saved the day. I was content just to drink my Shiner Bock and watch a hell of a fire.