How Crazy Is This?

So I'm working on Saturday night at the restaurant. It's hopping and so am I. I started off with a bachelorette  party of fourteen at four and keep running all through the dinner shift. I had four older folks sit at one of my tables around seven.  Two married couples most probably in their late sixties. One of the men looked familiar but when you've been waiting tables in the same general area for over thirty years that's usually it. I asked him where he worked and replied he was retired from the GBI (that would be the Georgia Bureau of Investigation) but also said he has eaten in our restaurant often.

So begins another crazy server story...

I asked if he had worked for them in the early eighties? Yep, he did.

So this is me talking to my customer:

"I know this sounds crazy but there was a restaurant back in the seventies and eighties called "Steak and Ale." I worked at the one on Virginia Ave by the old Atlanta airport in 1980. We wore short plaid skirts with low cut peasant blouses and black tights. I was on the way to work one day and had a flat tire on the ramp of the interstate. I was only twenty at the time so thought nothing about getting out of the car in my uniform to change a tire, or at least attempt to. Cars whizzed by but finally a dark sedan pulled over behind me. A black man in suit and tie got out. He told me to move over out of the way and proceeded to change my tire for me. He was such a nice guy but chastised me for getting out of the car in my current attire. When  finished with the tire he handed me his business card and said if I ever needed help to call him. Sounds crazy but after thirty four years still remember his name, maybe you knew him. His name was Moses Ector."

My customer looked quite surprised and said "In fact I do know him, he's the reason my wife and I are married. He introduced us over thirty five years ago."

Number one, how crazy is it I remember a GBI agent's name after all this time and number two, how crazy is it I would be waiting on his friend thirty four years later and this conversation come up?

His wife had gone to the restroom but when she came back was just as shocked as us!

She even gave me more enlightenment about my flat tire hero. Yes, they were still friends with him. He had grown up in the small town of Hogansville about ten miles south of where we live. He was raised by a white couple who had literally found him abandoned in a wicker basket. They name him Moses, Touche'!

How ironic that our paths crossed yet again tonight, thirty four years later. I asked if he still stayed in touch with Moses and he does. I told him to ask Moses if he remembered helping a fair young maiden on the interstate one day in 1980!

I have a lot of aches and pains but the one good thing I have left is an excellent memory.

It is truly a small, small world. It's a world full of rage , dishonesty and despair but if you try hard enough can always find a silver lining...I found one tonight. I hope this couple comes back in to eat one night along with their friend; my flat tire hero, Moses. Wouldn't that be really cool?

Til next time... COTTON