I'm binding books today at work, which allows for much thinking because, other than focusing on "don't crush your fingers in this medieval, Teutonic device," there isn't much going on in my head. A song playing on our radio reminded me of a spectacular precognitive moment I had a number of years ago.
Back in Illinois, when I was relaxing with friends post-work at Friday's, indulging in a Captain and Coke and playing some trivia, my dad called from the Harley 100th Anniversary rally in Milwaukee.
Fahjah said, "We're sitting here in a big field, awaiting the surprise headliner. We're so far from the stage, they've got a Jumbotron set up so we can see. We're taking suggestions on who the mystery headliner is. We've got Aerosmith, The Eagles, Bruce..."
I was MUCH angrier those days (happily that has changed some since I moved north), and my answer was, "It's probably going to be Elton John."
Fahjah: "Dawwww...you think?"
Me: "Well, what says 'Surprise!' at a Harley rally, THE Harley rally, than an old, English gay with a penchant for stupid sunglasses?"
We say goodbye and I'm back into my drink and my trivia. After a half-hour or so passes, my cell phone rings again. It's...my dad.
"So," he said, "the band starts into some long, low notes and it suddenly hits me, Jesus this is 'Funeral For A Friend!' Son of a bitch! IT'S ELTON JOHN! It was a mass exodus. A bajillion-strong leather-clad orange-and-black wave of departure. They even opened up the VIP section to everyone. I think someone's getting fired on Monday."
I'm wondering now that I've been reminded of this, if there isn't a career out there for me in predicting corporate downfalls and stock market fluctuations, assuming I gave a crap about either of those. Hey, Trish, that kitten heel on your left shoe needs a looking-at... Might as well throw a prediction out there. If I'm wrong, hey, at least Trish will have a quick opportunity to admire her own shoes...