Synchronicity and Serendipity

But right as I opened my mouth, to tell them that the man they were speaking of, Luigi Vitrone, is one of my very good friends, and that I could tell them story after crazy story of all the wild times Luigi has had during his twenty years serving the good people of Wilmington, Gerald let out a shriek, the likes of which such as I had never heard from a man of that age, or a man of any age, for that matter, ever.  

"YYYYYEEEEEEELP!!!!  Gerald screeched, as the full extent of the tragedy of the forgotten Zagat's book fully set in.  

"Dammit, Jean.  I wanted that book."

I settled back into my seat and back into my Foreign Affairs.  

We pulled into 30th St. Station in Philadelphia, and shortly thereafter, a young couple made their way into our car, and sat down on the other side of the aisle.  They were both dressed in red and white, and it did not take me long to figure out where they were coming from.  

"What a game!" the guy said to his lady friend, and she leaned up against him.  "Yeah" she replied, it was really great to see Carrie and Angie and Bob and Michael, and how about those sweet seats that Timmy hooked us up with?   And to watch that hunk Chase Utley hit a walk off home run in the bottom of the ninth....wonderful!"

"Easy now, Kristina" the gentleman chuckled, "you married me, not Chase Utley."  They laughed and settled into their seats.  I swear I heard Gerald grumbling.  

I've always been a begrudging fan of the Phillies.  Born in Brooklyn, I am a die hard Yankees fan, and have always been so.  But I was born in 1950, and it was in that year that the Yanks beat up on them Phils for the title of World Champion, so, even though I wasn't old enough to know it then, I would always hold a sort of Philadelphian love for the little brother team from the south.  Also, my favorite color has always been red.  

This is where serendipity crosses paths with the unbelievable, and I got my opportunity to again tell my stories.  As Kristina dug through her day bag, and Michael (as I came to learn was her husband's name) tried to find something listenable on his mp3 player, Jean stood up to stretch, let out a yawn, and the train pulled slowly out of the station.

It was only because of Jean's standing to stretch that I even noticed what Kristina was pulling out of her bag.  It was the Spark Magazine from this week, which I knew, from having picked it up myself earlier in the week, featured a profile of the very same Luigi Vitrone's Pastabilities that Jean and Gerry were speaking so passionately about just moments before.  I sat back in my seat, and waited to see if the moment would present itself.

Sure enough, a few minutes later, Kristina, leafing through the mag, said "Mike, look at this."  They then went into a lengthy discussion about how that cozy little, amazing restaurant that they had visited just last week was now profiled in the Spark Magazine, and how utterly serendipitous this was.  I smiled to myself at that, and listened on.  "It says here that on Wednesday and Friday nights, Pastabilities is hosting acoustic music events, and that Luigi has converted some of his classic dishes into late night sandwich offerings, at late night (read: affordable) prices."  Mike took an interest at this.  "Who is playing there next, Kris?" 

She told him "A guy named Tommy Murray will be there on September 5." 

"I love Tommy!  You know him.  We saw him play back at Mojo 13 a few months ago.  He has been playing in this area for years, in bands like the Crash, and Clayton.  And he has been doing his acoustic thing for a while now too.  I think he has a record out on Creep Records.  We'll be getting back into town on that afternoon, so we should definitely go to that, check out the scene and see how it is."

I agreed with them, silently, as I planned to be there too.  I normally only travel to Wilmington about once every three months for business, but it just so happens that I have a series of meetings I cannot avoid, to be held at the Hotel DuPont on September 4-7.  Having read that Spark article myself, I'd already made my Friday night plans.  

I hadn't realized it, but I was staring.  I've always been a big fan of Olympic Sports, so the cover of the Spark, heralding their Olympic coverage, swept me into a daze, and I was embarrassed when Mike stared right back at me and said "what are you staring at, old man?"  He thought I was inappropriately oogling his wife, but though she was oogle-worthy, I was not.  I smiled, apologized, and explained my interest in the cover.  I used this as a chance to jump in.

"I couldn't help but notice, earlier, the two of you discussing Luigi Vitrone's Pastabilities."  They both smiled, and, almost in unison, said "we love that place!"  

Gerald, whose hearing was no longer as good as it was in his days as a covert audio technician (pure conjecture, on my part), missed their response, as well as the fact that I was speaking to someone other than him.  He waved his cane somewhat wildly at me, and barked "what's it to you, bub?"