It was mid-afternoon when we entered the nearly deserted pub/sandwich bar. We ordered something vegetarian (probably cheese and cucumber sandwiches) and pints of beer (because we could there).
Some old guys, probably in their 20's flirted with us until they found out that we were 17 and 14. I was old enough for them but Debbie was "jail bait" and they quickly left without a good-day or a good-bye.
A young man, about my age, sat at the table behind my sister writing in a journal and quietly laughed. He was the most gorgeous thing I had ever seen and it was all I could do not to gape at him.
We ordered and drank more beers and Debbie started to loosen up and forget that she desperately wanted to go home.
Then, an old Scottish man approached our table with a writing pad and a thick brogue that was even harder to understand through his slur. He sat himself right down with us and began to show us, through numerology, that he was the re-incarnation of Elvis Presley's twin brother Jessie who had died at birth.
The laughs from the young man got louder as he overheard the strange rantings coming from our table. He called out "Are you from The States?". Yes. "Are you from California?". Yes. "Are you from Sacramento?". Yes, how did you know? "I am into dialects and accents, besides, I'm also from Sacramento". Wow, what were the chances that the first person, besides pervs and lunatics, that we would meet in London would be from our hometown?
He asked if he could join us and we said as calmly as possible, yes. Really it was-Hell yeah, been trying to figure out how to talk to you since I first laid eyes on your beautiful face. He sat down with the three of us, we made our introductions and were quickly reminded of the diatribe of the Scotsman, he had only just begun.
We drank more beer and found the old guy amusing enough to let him ramble. His notepad looked ancient and was covered completely in various inks and pencil with no more room for calculations. We offered that his basic premise, numerology, had flaws. He would hear nothing but himself. He wasn't looking for interaction, he just
needed to be heard.
"But, if Elvis was 42 when he died and his twin would also have been the same age if he'd lived then you would have to be 48.". The man was clearly over 70. His explanation of that paradox, unfortunately, brought us to another subject- time/space continuum stuff. Shit, more numbers, more equations!
Eventually, we left to find a more appropriate place to get to know each other that involved more beer and no "Jessie".
