And ERMAHGERD you guys the cello* player was gorgeous. Curly blond hair peeking out from under a fedora, Ray Ban sunglasses, an ironic T-shirt tucked into ironically high-waisted pleated pants held up with suspenders. Ironic hipster jackpot.
Then, I would toss it into the guitar case with the tips. Crazy! Insane! Genius!
Only, I didn’t have a pen.
Over tea, I told my roomie about my crazy plan. Later, I asked to borrow a pen to sign my paycheck to deposit it in the ATM. And guess what? She didn’t have a pen either!
“Oh, how will we ever nab street-musician husbands if we don’t carry pens with us?” I lamented.
Later, on the subway ride home, I pondered random encounters and fate.
“I can’t stop thinking about the butterfly effect,” I confessed. “If I had had a pen, the course of my life could have been completely different.”
“Or, it could have stayed exactly the same,” my wise roommate reasoned.
“True. But then, I wouldn’t have had to borrow a pen from the restaurant to sign my paycheck.”
The moral of the story is, always carry a pen.