"Are you talking about the namedropper"?
"Yeah, isn't it funny how she told us that she hated people like that but she's that way... oh well, she's cool".
"Yeah...okay".
Now the above interaction between two rather relieved individuals will certainly not sit with you for any amount of time after you read this story. Its verbiage will not be heard from the mouths of pop culture hipster zeitgeists. It's more pimento loaf than good barbeque, but that's quite okay, this story really isn't about that.
A few months back, I told a tale, an Epilogue, about two rather innocuous people, two people that don't stand out in a crowd, two people who thrive in the glow of being under the radar, two people who picked door 3 when they clearly should've picked door 2, two people who developed a curse. A curse that wasn't about to let these two begin a new chapter in their lives. The curse it would seem had a crush.
But their epilogue was their new beginning...
Our two innocuous folks, CPD and MGG began, secretly of course, to hatch their plan to meet in a place that's a little out-of-the-way. A place of recreated Parthenon's, the Mother Church, and pancakes that people will wait in line for, lines that stretch a country mile...these pancakes are the
Beatles of pancakes...these pancakes will make you give up eating healthy in the morning...these pancakes stick to your ribs...more on these later.
So while the curse lay in furlough, feeding off the carnal pleasure of victory, his two subjects were conniving, speaking in weird dead dialect tongues, obscure text messages, classic bait and switch ploys, double crosses, growing eyes in the back of your head, the type of ploys Mafia types call Tuesday afternoon were concocted so as to not show their hand to the master plan. All bases were covered, or so it seemed.
The thing about their curse is, momma didn't raise no fool and no one, and I mean NO ONE will break him without a fight. The curse awoke to find things were amiss with his two innocuous subjects; the curse began to connive as well. Game on as they say.
One more battle royale...
Knowing that the window of opportunity for CPD and MGG was a limited one, the curse cooked up a mighty stew. Cancelled flights, torrential spring time weather and a cloud of an already defeatist attitude swept in like the mightiest of storms. The curse smiled and began to celebrate. The victory party was planned in his town called Malice. He would be crowned victor, a statue erected in his honor and a movie celebrating his life starring
Bruce Willis would be rushed into production to capitalize on his 15 minutes.
But the cart came before the horse...
The simple lesson to be learned here is: don't screw with the quiet types. You may win a battle but the war will be theirs.
I can't divulge how they pulled the wool over the curses eyes, secret recipes are secret for a reason. But just like David, Rocky, USA Hockey circa 1980, The Rebel Alliance et al, the war would ultimately be theirs.
So, on a simple in-no-way peculiar Friday night at 10pm, as MGG came down an airport escalator, exhausted as all get out, happy to have her feet on the ground in the place that's a little out of the way, she and CPD locked eyes. No use in trying to play it coy, this simple in-no-way peculiar night had now become one that would be memorable. This was one of those moments when you think back to all the decisions you made in your life and where they led you, this will be the one that will make these two smile from ear to ear.
So began the new beginning of CPD and MGG. The victory almost seemed, for a brief second, anticlimatic or for that matter unreal. Fears of waking up back in the world they inhabited just 24 hours before seemed not so far-fetched. But this was the real deal standing next to each other, side by side. Leashes were bought so as to not lose tabs, but they weren't going to stray to far from each others sight lines.
Their all-to-brief time together was filled with many unexpected delights. Lots of turning around,
AC/DC,
Queen and
Led Zeppelin...a find in
Mikki Wilcox, Webb's car with door handles made of guns,
YoungGuns II, steak that melted in your mouth and oh so elegantly enhanced by good Scotch and bread that two people could swear might have been donuts, debates on the merrits of
Starbucks, politcal discussions that were pushed aside...agree to disagree,
Rush anda new found acceptance, idle pillow talk, a nice find in east side bars, cigarette machines, Disctrict bars filled with cowboy butts that might drive some people nuts, a return to a hotel chain that started it all, the hope a drug induced
Lou Reed leads a secret life as a gilder, a discussion on the merrits of
Randy Travis, on
George Strait, and whether
Them or
Dylan first wrote
It's All Over Now Baby Blue (Dylan), lost upon each other sarcasm, FUBAR re-discovey, Hank's tragedy, Bocephus's egregious nature and then there were those pancakes...if you ever find yourself in a place that is home to The Mother Church, you might want to seek out the Pancake Pantry...it's worth the wait.
Sadly, every good party must come to an end and with that each readied themselves to head off to separate coasts, Beverly and the Big Apple. Talk of a summer mini reunion in the city by the Bay and a fall return to living in the same city brought smiles...ear to ear of course.
Where the sidewalk ends, the road begins...
As for that curse it learned a valuable lesson, There is no I in threesome.
Keep on Rocking in the Free World.
PH.