This morning, I went to a local coffee shop to have some scrambled eggs and toast. Sophia and I used to go to this place all the time, but after they got a grouchy new manager, Sophia didn’t like it anymore. But I’m a creature of habit, so I sometimes still go there by myself.
When I sat down, Denise, the waitress, waved at me. She has spiky blond hair and has been working on her real estate certificate for seven years.
“Hey there!” she yelled “Haven’t seen you for a while!”
“Been busy.”
It was a lie. I just didn’t have the heart to tell her that Sophia was boycotting the coffee shop.
“You’re a celebrity around here.” she said, coming over to shake my hand. “We all saw you on TV last week.”
“You did?”
“In Long Beach. At that concert of Britney Spears ex-husband.”
I paused, giving myself enough time to scrunch my face in confusion.
“It was you AND your wife.” she continued. “They interviewed you. I recognized your accents. I called up Kathy and said, “Turn on Channel Five. Look who’s on TV!””
“Sorry. That wasn’t us.”
“Sure it was.”
“Maybe it was people who looked like us.”
Denise shook her head, confident in her opinion.
“No, no, no. It was Britney Spear’s ex-husband. What’s his name?”
“Kevin Federline?”
“That’s right. You were at the Kevin Federline concert in Long Beach.”
“I would have remembered that.”
“It was you AND your wife.”
“Maybe Sophia was out with another man.” I joked.
“If she was, it was with someone who looked and sounded just like you!”
Denise beckoned to another waitress.
“Kathy come here!” she screamed across the coffee shop. “Didn’t we see him and his wife on TV?”
“That’s right.” answered Kathy, as she came over, carrying two pots of coffee. “It was Britney Spear’s husband. I saw you being interviewed by the Asian woman on Channel Five.”
“Sorry. It wasn’t me.” I said, trying to make the statement as strong as possible.
“You’ve never been on Pine Avenue in Long Beach?” asked Denise
“I have.”
“So maybe you just don’t remember being at the concert.” she snapped back. “Men are like that. Were you drinking?”
“Men.” spoke Kathy. “Men don’t remember anything other than where to stick it in. Ask your wife. She’ll remember you going.”
“Nah.” I said, finally getting a little annoyed. “I’m pretty sure neither of us was there.”
“Ask her.” said Kathy rather sternly, as she poured me some more coffee. “It was you.”
Blog Flashback: When I was recognized as “Kirk” from the Gilmore Girls