There’s a new bartender at the Little Café near nome. I first saw her a couple of days ago. The place was empty when I got there, and I sat at my customary table (lowered back to a more dog-friendly level), plugged in, and set to typing. (Some days it’s writing, others, typing.)
As I worked the place began to fill up, and a few of the arrivals were faces I recognized but had not seen in two months. Happy greetings were exchanged and I went back to work. That didn’t last long, however, as the place was getting crowded and I was getting very, very tired. It was time to go home before I fell asleep in the café.
When I paid, the new bartender said, almost shyly, “May I ask? You are Jerry?”
Hey! I’m famous! I assured her that everything she had heard was nothing but a pack of lies, paid my tab, and left. Forty meters up the street I realized I had not asked her what her name was. I was too wrapped up in being spoken of. ONE person has heard of me and already I have the superstar’s inflated head.
Last night I was back at LCNH watching hockey and writing during the intermissions. There was a rambunctous table full of hockey fans, and the vibe of the place was good for watching sports. The bartender was not so much a hockey fan, but we did occasionally exchange smiles over the antics of the more rabid viewers. Then other friends showed up, writing was done, and fun was had by all.
As I left IÂ apologized for not asking previously and got the bartender’s name.
If only I could remember what it was.
