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It was Valentine's Day, 1979. My first wife and I were on a three month tour of England. We were in Stratford-upon-Avon and we decided that I needed to go to London for a day and take care of some business. I was going to book our room at the bed and breakfast near Victoria Station we preferred, pick up mail at the American Express, take care of some money matters, and take care of some other matters.
At lunch time, I went to a pub near Victoria Station that I had come to enjoy. It was a pretty good-sized pub, dimly lit, and I went to the bar. The man working the bar saw I was alone and immediately recognized by my voice that I was from the USA.
He'd just been to the United States over the New Year. He'd been to New York. He told me a story about walking in Central Park and being accosted by a couple of young guys who wanted to take his wallet.
"I told them, 'No.' There was no bloody way these blokes were getting my wallet."
I was impressed.
He then went on to say, "They wouldn't leave me bloody alone, so I punched on of 'em, right in the bloody nose. 'Twas prob'ly daff of me, but they ran off, and I've still got me wallet!"
He was a gracious man and while I laughed in awe of what he had done he said, "So, enough about me. Where are you from in the states?"
"Idaho."
And almost the second I uttered my home state's name, a voice came rising out of the smoky low light of the pub, "Ahll right, I-duh-ho!"
The bartender looked at me a little askance. But I recognized the voice's tone. I hadn't heard a male North Idaho voice for a couple of months. I wasn't sure I wanted to know who owned this one.
Out of the dark of the pub a wobbly figure emerged.
"Ahll right, man! You're from Idaho, huh? Ahll right!! Where you from, man?"
"Kellogg"
"Kellogg! Oh man! Ahll right! I know Kellogg. I drove truck up there lots of times. I've lived forever in St. Maries!"
He was fairly incoherent. As he rambled on about having just driven a truck for a guy from St. Maries to South Carolina and back to Idaho and how his old lady said let's go to England and how he didn't want to go to any goddamn country that didn't know what side to drive on and as he he told me how he hated to fly and drank whiskey the whole way over and had just got off the plane and the first thing he did once his old lady passed out in their room was look for a bar and goddamn it wouldn't ya know I find a guy from Kellogg goddamn Idaho. Ahll Right!
"So what you doin' here, man? This is so awesome, man. I'm off the plane forty-five minutes havin' a beer in jolly ole goddman England and look! I run into a guy from Kellogg....Ahll right! What was I sayin'? Right...what you doin' here, man?"
I was feeling wary. This guy was in a jet lagged, sleep deprived, Pan Am whiskey/ English Ale incoherent stupor and I needed to get some more stuff done. I hoped I could shake him.
"I'm just here takin' care of stuff. My wife's up in Stratford--"
"What! You some kinda Shakespeare nut?"
"and I'm doin' some stuff here. I have a train to catch pretty soon. It was good to meet ya. Have a great time here in England."
"Ahww Right! If I keep thish up, I won't know where I been."
He gave me a drug/brotherhood/peace/love handshake and stumbled back to his table.
"Cheers, man. Have a nice ride back to Stratford."
I tipped the bartender and headed back into the London afternoon. I was a long way from North Idaho, but North Idaho had managed to find me.
At lunch time, I went to a pub near Victoria Station that I had come to enjoy. It was a pretty good-sized pub, dimly lit, and I went to the bar. The man working the bar saw I was alone and immediately recognized by my voice that I was from the USA.
He'd just been to the United States over the New Year. He'd been to New York. He told me a story about walking in Central Park and being accosted by a couple of young guys who wanted to take his wallet.
"I told them, 'No.' There was no bloody way these blokes were getting my wallet."
I was impressed.
He then went on to say, "They wouldn't leave me bloody alone, so I punched on of 'em, right in the bloody nose. 'Twas prob'ly daff of me, but they ran off, and I've still got me wallet!"
He was a gracious man and while I laughed in awe of what he had done he said, "So, enough about me. Where are you from in the states?"
"Idaho."
And almost the second I uttered my home state's name, a voice came rising out of the smoky low light of the pub, "Ahll right, I-duh-ho!"
The bartender looked at me a little askance. But I recognized the voice's tone. I hadn't heard a male North Idaho voice for a couple of months. I wasn't sure I wanted to know who owned this one.
Out of the dark of the pub a wobbly figure emerged.
"Ahll right, man! You're from Idaho, huh? Ahll right!! Where you from, man?"
"Kellogg"
"Kellogg! Oh man! Ahll right! I know Kellogg. I drove truck up there lots of times. I've lived forever in St. Maries!"
He was fairly incoherent. As he rambled on about having just driven a truck for a guy from St. Maries to South Carolina and back to Idaho and how his old lady said let's go to England and how he didn't want to go to any goddamn country that didn't know what side to drive on and as he he told me how he hated to fly and drank whiskey the whole way over and had just got off the plane and the first thing he did once his old lady passed out in their room was look for a bar and goddamn it wouldn't ya know I find a guy from Kellogg goddamn Idaho. Ahll Right!
"So what you doin' here, man? This is so awesome, man. I'm off the plane forty-five minutes havin' a beer in jolly ole goddman England and look! I run into a guy from Kellogg....Ahll right! What was I sayin'? Right...what you doin' here, man?"
I was feeling wary. This guy was in a jet lagged, sleep deprived, Pan Am whiskey/ English Ale incoherent stupor and I needed to get some more stuff done. I hoped I could shake him.
"I'm just here takin' care of stuff. My wife's up in Stratford--"
"What! You some kinda Shakespeare nut?"
"and I'm doin' some stuff here. I have a train to catch pretty soon. It was good to meet ya. Have a great time here in England."
"Ahww Right! If I keep thish up, I won't know where I been."
He gave me a drug/brotherhood/peace/love handshake and stumbled back to his table.
"Cheers, man. Have a nice ride back to Stratford."
I tipped the bartender and headed back into the London afternoon. I was a long way from North Idaho, but North Idaho had managed to find me.
7 comments:
I wondered where the original Ugly American had gone off to. I would never have guessed to look for him in a pub in Stratford.;)
I really enjoyed my trip to the UK. Especially Warwick Castle. I wandered all over that huge garden pretending I was a character in a Jane Austen novel.
You trumped me. Your Back to Kevin Bacon example was further away than any of mine. Great story. I wonder if he ever got carsick on that road leaving St. Maries that we had to endure?
Yeah, but I didn't connect him with any particular person in Kellogg...that's where the Six Degrees really works...I doubt in the pea soup fog of his alcohol/jet lagged addled mind he could have come up with a Kellogg name, but if he had and if a string of connections could have grown out of that, well that would have been Kevin Bacon awesome!
Sometime in the early 80's a military transport I was on had to make an unscheduled stop at Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris. We were stuck there until another aircraft could be dispatched from Rhein Main AB, Germany to bring a maintenance crew and some parts to fix it. We had several hours to kill but since we were in utility uniform, we were restricted to the terminal. I went into the bar (as I was apt to do in those days) and had a couple of drinks while watching godawful French television. A man walked by and as he passed me, I noticed he staring more closely than is heterosexually necessary. He continued to walk but did a bit of a double-take and came back to my position at the bar. He said, "are you Rick Wainright?" Puzzled, I replied, "yes". He said, "I thought so, but I had to read your nametag to be sure. "We were suitemates in Theopholis Tower at the University of Idaho." I did not remember him, but much of the recollection of my first year at college is somewhat blurred. He sat down and bought me a drink (always welcomed) and our chance meeting was even more bizarre as I found out that he was also in Paris by chance. His commecial airliner was diverted enroute from New York to Frankfurt for an emergency illness on board. (someone must have ordered the fish). Unlike myself, he did not have a nametag, so I was at a bit of a disadvantage. But using my interrogation skills I found out that he was from Sandpoint and worked for BASF. I have since forgotten his name, but I smile to think of the vast odds against this meeting taking place.
This is a great story, Rick. You have a lot of great stories..and you tell 'em really well. Keep 'em coming my way, those stories. After reading yours, I wish others would read my story, and yours, and post ones similar. It's kind of mind-boggling how these out of nowhere chance meetings happen.
RP, I write only because you asked for out of nowhere chance meetings and since I have just moved a few miles down the road, here is the best I could come up with....
I was in a bar in Kellogg one time, and these guys walked up to me and said, "Hey, aren't you from Wallace," and I said "Yes." Well, the fight was on.
Starr,
I am laughing out loud...great one!
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