*** ‘Vignette City’ is an ongoing project of daily writing and urban photography ***
What happened next can only be considered even remotely plausible if you: 1) believe in something like fate or God or destiny or a divine plan or are tremendously stupid, or 2) have a supple enough mind to appreciate that on a long enough timeline there is a greater chance of something happening eventually than not ever happening, or 3) you think I’m making all of this up.
What happened was: I told work I would be late and I went down to a branch of the bank that had issued me the card. Had I ever made it to the bank they would have told me that coming to the bank was a waste of time because even though the bank issued me the card it was secured through the credit card company and then there would have occurred a conversation that I would not have enjoyed. But before any of that could happen, I got off the subway around the corner from the bank and stopped at a coffee cart. It was morning and that’s when I drink coffee. The cart smelled like a cloud made of coffee and I didn’t even mind waiting. What I did mind was when I stepped to the front of the line and the coffee cart guy said to me, “Back again Mister B.?”
My name is - in fact - Bloom.
Whathefuck? I considered saying because it seemed like the most appropriate thing, but instead said,
“Excuse me?”
“You change clothes Mister B?” Coffee Cart Guy asked.
“Listen to me very carefully. We see each other all the time, right?” I was working a hunch here.
“Every morning. You feeling okay Mister B.?”
“I’m having a very unusual morning, I will admit that. Was I just here?”
“Yeah, couple minutes ago.”
“Which way did I go?”
“These are very unusual questions Mister B.”
“I will grant you that. Do you know where I was headed?”
“Same way as always,” Coffee Cart Guy pointed his finger up the street. “I think you work in that building.”
“Thank you Coffee Cart Guy.”
“My name is Vince. You were a lot nicer the last time. Tipped better than normal.”
And so I wasn’t running, but yeah, maybe running a little. The building was all corporate concrete gray. Glassed in first floor. Big hunk on nondescript corporate art/water attraction just outside the lobby. Standard stuff. About a block up, other side of the street. With the morning foot traffic Secondary Me might not have made it there yet, taking it easy, sipping his coffee, enjoying life. So I’m going to outsmart him. I dash out into the street. How good it feels to dash! Around the cars, horns blaring some tires screeching, but that’s okay, because I’m already across the street and dashing up toward the building. I try not to push people out of the way, instead I weave and dash around them. Saps, sipping their coffee, taking it easy. I’m on a mission. I’m through the next intersection, sweating. I’m standing in front of the corporate art/water attraction. I am letting them come to me. All of the take-it-easy-sip-your-coffee-have-no-idea-I’m-waiting-for-you morning people.
I can’t stand still, still moving. Moving slightly from one foot to the other, one foot to the other. All adrenaline jittery. And then just like that, like you just would not fucking believe unless you (see above: 1, 2, or 3), there I am.
There I am!
Walking right toward me.
There is a guy who looks just like me, sipping his coffee and walking toward me. And I look good. I look relaxed. I look like a man who has not spent his morning hunting a man who has stolen his identity. I watch him walk toward me and I think for a second about how I have not thought of anything cool to say to him.What do you say to someone who is you? Or who might be you? Or might be a liar pretending to be you?
What do you say? Do you say, “You are not me! I am the only me!”
But then I realize I’d gotten lost in thinking about what to say when I showed up and I suddenly couldn’t find me anymore. Had I let me go by? Had I gotten past me? I hopped up and down and tried to see all the people morning moving around me, but I couldn’t see me.
I couldn’t see me anywhere.
I was gone.
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