No, this isn’t a tribute to that 80’s cereal you see in the name of this post, but rather the state of affairs for your Bar-land host. ‘Cause I got nuttin’ for ya’, honey… no story to tell, no patrons from hell, just a normal week of pouring and putting out food. Flat-out Blanks-ville! And we had us a damn full moon this week, a Harvest Moon at that, you’d think that would’ve sent some body over the edge. But it didn’t.
However, just so you haven’t come all this way just for that lame disclaimer, there was this little co-inky-dink late last night…
I stopped at my favorite spot last night… a restaurant here in new York… my usual Friday night stop when I get off work. I was still holding out that something might happen to fill up this afternoon’s post, so I wasn’t just there for a drink but to watch and think. A celebrity might walk in, a politician might crawl out, or someone might tell me a story that’s well worth repeating. For that happens quite often in bars like this, especially late at night, so you have to keep both your eyes and ears on alert. Which I did. But for naught. Just a friend who sent me a drink and these words with Alex. Alex is the bartender.
“Hey, Al, what’s up?” I said, after he poured my drink and set it in front of me. “How was your week?”
“Good,” he said with a shrug, “how ’bout you?”
I filled him in with what took me all of three words. “It was fine,” I said, miming the same kind of shrug. But then things took a turn for the downright eerie. Check this out.
Alex leaned in and told me he was going to see a specialist on Monday afternoon. Nothing serious I’m happy to report, in fact nothing really wrong at all, just a check-up and series of tests which were long overdue. Then he said what kind of a doctor he was seeing.
“Oh yeah?” I said when he finished. “I have an appointment on Monday as well with the exact same kind of doctor, so who’s the guy your primary sent you to see?” Well, when he told me, dear reader, I almost fell off the bar stool… for his was the very same specialist I was referred to. Now that may not seem like a big deal to you (or hardly a story worth posting) but I think it’s off the charts on the synchronicity scale. In fact it’s inestimable!
For this isn’t “Dodge City”, for crying out loud, where Matt, Miss Kitty and Chester all go to Doc Adams. We live here in New York City with thousands of docs. I mean thousands! And I have a one forty five on Monday while he has a four fifteen (notice the same three numbers there… 1-4-5 and 4-1-5) also dovetailing nicely into the eerie. Same specialist, same day, probably the same kind of tests, the exact same numbers used in the scheduling ordered from two different docs in a city of thousands. I find that amazing.
So I guess this post wasn’t totally “nuttin”, as woefully stated up top, but it’s certainly not one I’ll put in the “Best Of” archives. Just one of those mysteries of life that makes you wonder. And that I couldn’t help sharing.
But in the meantime, in between time, let’s hope next week someone jumps on the bar and back flips into a shot glass, or Juliette Binoche walks in for a glass of Lillet, ’cause I owe you one. And I’ll try to deliver.
Over and out from “Barren” land… see ya’ next week-end.
PS: Monday also has extra meaning, it’s Alex’s wedding anniversary… so happy, happy and many, many more, my friend!