The Nubbin - A Hipster Toll Bridge Story - The Conclusion

Hi Gang!

If you haven't read Chapter 1 of this little tale, scroll down to the post following this one...

When we left off, my angry and confused crew was listening to the details of the story. As we made our way upstairs, the search was on for "the guy who look's like he's in the White Stripes, wearing a skinny tie and Capezios". My friend Jess, who is very Brooklyn, was eager for the inevitable confrontation, and even when we had almost given up on finding him, she insisted we not leave until we search a little more thoroughly. Alas, there was no sign of him, until I realized that he might be in the smoker's alley to the side of the bar. Sure enough, there he was, leaning with his back up against a brick wall, hunched over, one Capezioed foot propped back on the wall, talking to his hipster friend while he smoked a cigarette.

Kitty: (standing a foot in front of him, pointing directly into his face, my husband close behind): There he is! Babe, there he is! That's him!

At this point, my husband deftly swept up next to the hipster, and, because of the hipster's crouched over positioning, my husband seriously towered over him.

Husband: (bad-assedly) Buddy...Why don't you do me and yourself a favor...and keep your feet away from my wife.
Hipster: (Nodding quickly) OK!
Kitty: (for some weird reason, giving him the thumbs up sign) Yeah!

We triumphantly exited the smoking section, while I bragged to all our friends about my husband's defense of my honor, which I thought was flawless. No fisticuffs, no obscenities...my husband let the Nubbin man know who was boss, but he remained civilized (which never gets you thrown out of bars). We later discovered that the Nubbin man was a member of a band that had played previously in the evening, and that they were from France. Our investigators are already hard at work looking for the band's assumingly lame MySpace page.