“I caught an Eevee!” the millennial exclaimed, shortly after we encountered each other last night at the local tavern. My eyes searched for Cedric to see if he was working on my Moscow Mule. He was checking expiration dates on bottles of ginger beer.
“It’s good to have an Eevee,” continued the millennial, whose identity remains a mystery to me. “It can evolve into Vaporeon, Jolteon, or Flareon, depending on what stone you have.” I looked down at a corner of the bar.
“It really hasn’t been so great for me lately,” confessed the millennial, unprompted. “This Pokemon thing really gives me a reason to get up and get going! I’ve never felt so social!”
“Plus there’s the nostalgia factor. Remember when that was all the rage?” With this, the millennial sighed and looked up to the left. My gaze followed his, but there was nothing there except a wisp of smoke.
“There’s criticism, sure,” the millennial continued, speaking in a sort of contrived way. “Some people say that we should focus on more important things. But who’s to determine what’s actually important? Do you read much Nietzche?”
“A Caterpie!” the millennial exclaimed, interrupting my response. Meeting his gaze, I found myself locked in intense eye contact, but not the sort of genuine eye contact that radiates warmth across the table. More the kind that’s incredibly intense while still somehow being tragically vacant. Then he blinked and looked at his cell phone for a while.
Again, my eyes scanned the room for Cedric. I finally spotted him on the other end of the bar at his computer, searching phrases like “PokeSpot,” “is it dangerous to drink and catch Pokemon,” and “what are the long-term implications of all this.”
“Is the President on Pokemon Go?” asked the millennial. “I sure hope he is. I really do.” At this time, Cedric returned with my beverage, and I escaped into the night.
