(Smoothest name ever in a landslide was some kid in my film class last semester named "Mason Cash". There is no doubt in my mind this will be my alias down the road. That is of course, whenever I find myself in a situation where having an alias is absolutely necessary)
After this little name diversion, I came back to reality and realized that this was an annoying situation that would clearly throw off the flow of my day. Making the best of the wait for the police to show up, I talked to Stan for a good while. We found some common ground. We both went to Temple, we both were PKs (that's "Preacher's Kid" for all my Buddhist peeps reading) and we both were into writing music.
After a good 45-minute wait the police officer finally showed up. The dude was huge, and while approaching us in the 5-degree winter air, put on one of those crazy-looking raccoon hunter hats with the fuzzy ear flaps. He spoke with an accent from an Eastern European Country, of course I couldn't tell which one, ignorant American that I am. This guy single-handedly made me start questioning if I was awake or in a dream.
Eventually, I got back in the swing of my day after realizing that it was not a dream, but I always seem to ask myself the purpose of these chance encounters. There's no doubt that Stan or the cop who we'll call "Igor" played a crucial role in my life. I'm not trying to be one of those existential philosophizing types, but I definitely think that the little things that happen in life are more important than we realize when they first happen. We will never know why certain things happen, but they do happen for a reason, even if that reason is merely to delay my highly anticipated piece on Cosmo magazine haha. I'm out like Guinness Stout...
No comments:
Post a Comment