An unlikely ending
An unlikely coincidence happened today, which seems like a good reason for an entry. I started a free trial from eMusic.com, and I found myself reading the Wikipedia entry for Ryan Adams. (That's not the coincidence.) Turns out Ryan Adams shares a birthday with Gram Parsons, a musician from the 70s he's frequently compared to, and also with Bryan Adams, another musician with an obviously similar name. I figured the odds of this coincidence, by some estimation, are 365^-2, or a little more than 1 in 100,000. Of course it's less unlikely—there are many different ways to find an equivalent coincidence—but how much less? I considered this for a few seconds. Then I noticed what day his birthday was: November 5. What a minute... I check the date on the computer. Today is November 5! The previous odds just got kicked to 1 in 30 million—that's lottery range!
Whenever an unusal coincidence happens, I tend to look for more. I don't really think this, but it's like part of me believes the universe is trying to send me a message and I need to pay attention. A similar thing happened after an unusual incident at an Ohio Turnpike rest stop. An old man asked me to hold a door open and then later cornered me in the bathroom and told me about his newly-installed bladder pump. He was worried he wouldn't be able to figure it out. I was worried he was going to ask me to help! It wasn't as creepy as it sounds—he seemed genuinely worried, and he left for the urinals before any such request—but I did feel singled out, that something else weird was going to happen. And sure enough, as I was walking back to my car a man started calling in my direction. I kept my head down, telling myself he was calling to someone else. I was about to start my car, and suddenly—like in a horror movie—he just appeared outside my car and then knocked on my window!
It was anticlimactic after that—he just wanted a jumpstart—but it was weird, so it seemed that my premonition came true. So today I couldn't put out of my mind that the Ryan Adams coincidence was a sign from the universe that something else was going to happen.
In my mind there was another sign that something was going to happen, but this one came from my stomach. The sign read: barbeque. I was hungry in a specific way, and ten minutes later I was inside Rocklands Grill.
And coughing. The food tastes great—they grill with wood—but the price of getting it is near asphyxiation, and smelling like a campfire for the rest of the day. The smoke fills the place and sticks to you like a bad reputation. I was hoping to avoid the smell by waiting outside after ordering, but the person in line in front of me was going slowly. "Which sides do I want... Oh, I don't know, let me see, is that Caesar salad? Is that any good?..." I considered going outside until she was finished, but someone got in line behind me. I had to stay strong. You can't smoke out The Gopher!
I noticed that all the employees wore uniforms, though this performed no real function. At a department store, say, employees walk among the customers and so a uniform makes identifying employees (for assistance) quick and convenient. Here, however, all the employees stay behind the counter where customers are not allowed. The same is true for fast food restaurants. And baseball teams, for that matter—it's not like batters would accidentally hit the ball to the outfielder because he confused him for a teammate! Even the coaches wear uniforms. What's up with that? Maybe uniforms build team spirit. I suppose that could be useful. If I ever get my own laboratory, maybe I'll make my students and postdocs wear uniforms. Maybe I'll wear one too, like a baseball manager.
Anyway, I finally got to order, and then I stepped outside, following my plan. My clothes already smelled of smoke though. Maybe that's why the employees wear uniforms—normal clothes would just get smoke damaged. I walked around Georgetown for a while and then I went back inside Rocklands. Then another amazing coincidence happened. The next orders called were for "Ryan" and then "Adam"!
No, actually I made that up. But here is what did happen: The next order called was for "Dan" (me) right when I walked in. Maybe it's not amazing (or even noteworthy) but it was a coincidence.
Later that day I pondered the pointlessness of the door close button in elevators. It seems to take just as long whether or not you push it. Also, I wondered: Does anyone use the sock-like covers that come with umbrellas (made of the same material so you figure it's not just packaging)? It's too hard to get the umbrella back in, and besides the strap performs the same function but much more efficiently.
Well, that's all I've got. Nothing else happened. Pretty anticlimactic, I realize. It's just like the jumpstart story—but hey, that's life, my friend. I could try to make up something exciting to end with, but I think you'd rather have a true cooking tip, so here you go: Try peanut butter in your next stir fry or pasta sauce.
Whenever an unusal coincidence happens, I tend to look for more. I don't really think this, but it's like part of me believes the universe is trying to send me a message and I need to pay attention. A similar thing happened after an unusual incident at an Ohio Turnpike rest stop. An old man asked me to hold a door open and then later cornered me in the bathroom and told me about his newly-installed bladder pump. He was worried he wouldn't be able to figure it out. I was worried he was going to ask me to help! It wasn't as creepy as it sounds—he seemed genuinely worried, and he left for the urinals before any such request—but I did feel singled out, that something else weird was going to happen. And sure enough, as I was walking back to my car a man started calling in my direction. I kept my head down, telling myself he was calling to someone else. I was about to start my car, and suddenly—like in a horror movie—he just appeared outside my car and then knocked on my window!
It was anticlimactic after that—he just wanted a jumpstart—but it was weird, so it seemed that my premonition came true. So today I couldn't put out of my mind that the Ryan Adams coincidence was a sign from the universe that something else was going to happen.
In my mind there was another sign that something was going to happen, but this one came from my stomach. The sign read: barbeque. I was hungry in a specific way, and ten minutes later I was inside Rocklands Grill.
And coughing. The food tastes great—they grill with wood—but the price of getting it is near asphyxiation, and smelling like a campfire for the rest of the day. The smoke fills the place and sticks to you like a bad reputation. I was hoping to avoid the smell by waiting outside after ordering, but the person in line in front of me was going slowly. "Which sides do I want... Oh, I don't know, let me see, is that Caesar salad? Is that any good?..." I considered going outside until she was finished, but someone got in line behind me. I had to stay strong. You can't smoke out The Gopher!
I noticed that all the employees wore uniforms, though this performed no real function. At a department store, say, employees walk among the customers and so a uniform makes identifying employees (for assistance) quick and convenient. Here, however, all the employees stay behind the counter where customers are not allowed. The same is true for fast food restaurants. And baseball teams, for that matter—it's not like batters would accidentally hit the ball to the outfielder because he confused him for a teammate! Even the coaches wear uniforms. What's up with that? Maybe uniforms build team spirit. I suppose that could be useful. If I ever get my own laboratory, maybe I'll make my students and postdocs wear uniforms. Maybe I'll wear one too, like a baseball manager.
Anyway, I finally got to order, and then I stepped outside, following my plan. My clothes already smelled of smoke though. Maybe that's why the employees wear uniforms—normal clothes would just get smoke damaged. I walked around Georgetown for a while and then I went back inside Rocklands. Then another amazing coincidence happened. The next orders called were for "Ryan" and then "Adam"!
No, actually I made that up. But here is what did happen: The next order called was for "Dan" (me) right when I walked in. Maybe it's not amazing (or even noteworthy) but it was a coincidence.
Later that day I pondered the pointlessness of the door close button in elevators. It seems to take just as long whether or not you push it. Also, I wondered: Does anyone use the sock-like covers that come with umbrellas (made of the same material so you figure it's not just packaging)? It's too hard to get the umbrella back in, and besides the strap performs the same function but much more efficiently.
Well, that's all I've got. Nothing else happened. Pretty anticlimactic, I realize. It's just like the jumpstart story—but hey, that's life, my friend. I could try to make up something exciting to end with, but I think you'd rather have a true cooking tip, so here you go: Try peanut butter in your next stir fry or pasta sauce.
posted by Dan Sisan at 11:52 PM
1 comments
