Story #1
Some weeks ago, I passed by a lovely restaurant on my walk home from work. (I’m currently residing in Ann Arbor, MI) I like walking down Washington Street, especially around sunset as everything takes on a majestic golden hue, even, somehow, on the snowy gray days of late.
I have a habit of intensely looking into restaurant and bar windows, I like to study the décor and lighting—and sometimes I forget that there might be people inside that might look back at me mid-chew or mid-sip and I further sometimes forget that what I’m doing might be potentially rude or even creepy. That aside, this particular restaurant had gorgeous orange walls and fancy tablecloths and so I completely did away with any thought toward public decorum.
While marveling at the mix of exposed brick and earthy tones and heavy curtains and general lack-of-people, I inevitably happened upon the few people in the back who were glaring at me in the safe distance. One of them made a gesture indicating that I knew her. Maybe it was a wave, though it looked more like a lazy attempt at one, the kind really in-love-with-themselves-types make, so I didn't pay special attention. Until I noticed a second later as I was just going out of view that she flipped me off and the rest of her gang seemed to half-nod in approval. They must have thought they knew me. Surely, groups of people don't go around to restaurants half-waving and flipping off people they don't know through windows, right?
Right. So my estimation: my doppelganger must be a bitch. To know people like that and for them to respond like that, it must be so.
Story # 2
I was at Bab's on a Saturday night. Lovely little basement bar not too far from story #1.
I would not recommend going there on weekends. It transforms from its usual quiet and romantic self to a chaotic and unfortunate place, packed with UM cattle of the college girl/boy looking for a quick thrill variety.
Anyhow. Muscled my way through the UM throng up to the barman. A very artfully disheveled hipster with an ironic UM hat brought my drinks and excitedly/yet somehow lazily let me know that he thought for sure I was one of his colleagues in his architecture program and wasn’t that something.
No. It wasn’t. It only proved story # 1’s conclusion. My doppelganger must be a bitch.
Or even worse….a hipster.
Oh God.
Right. So my estimation: my doppelganger must be a bitch. To know people like that and for them to respond like that, it must be so.
Story # 2
I was at Bab's on a Saturday night. Lovely little basement bar not too far from story #1.
I would not recommend going there on weekends. It transforms from its usual quiet and romantic self to a chaotic and unfortunate place, packed with UM cattle of the college girl/boy looking for a quick thrill variety.
Anyhow. Muscled my way through the UM throng up to the barman. A very artfully disheveled hipster with an ironic UM hat brought my drinks and excitedly/yet somehow lazily let me know that he thought for sure I was one of his colleagues in his architecture program and wasn’t that something.
No. It wasn’t. It only proved story # 1’s conclusion. My doppelganger must be a bitch.
Or even worse….a hipster.
Oh God.
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