I wandered into the International House of Pancakes once, a long time ago. It was getting close to 3AM; we had been up all night drinking in the local watering hole, and had decided that our night wasn't over. The bars closed at 2 AM but we lingered, of course, finishing a pitcher of the rot-gut beer that was on special. The bartender, Eddie, seemed only mildly annoyed as we didn't cause a scene like some other of our peers, who were busy trashing not only themselves, but the general area around them as they were ushered out the door. We, however, lingered back by the rear of the place, in a few stools towards the end of the bar. We finally drained the pitcher at about 2:30, and Eddie was only too happy for us to leave by that point. The jukebox had long been turned off, but the echoes of The Allman Brother's "Back to Where It All Begins" still rang in my ears. Our driver hadn't had a drink since about 10 PM and was pretty pissed at his sobriety - but yet was still game to drive us down to the IHOP. We chose the IHOP over the Denny's down the road that night for reasons unknown, but sometimes fate steps in to make decisions for you that you can't comprehend.
The old triangular shaped building was hopping that evening; the place was full of post bar revelers like us, but we managed to get a table - I sat down in the far end of the booth, next to the window and that little caddy full of different flavored syrups. I spent an inordinate amount of time staring at the Strawberry Syrup while my compatriots ordered dishes like "Rooty Tooty Fresh and Fruity". I got an omelette. Bacon and cheese. Nothing too complex. It was the hashbrowns I was looking forward to, in all honesty. This was the days before such things were outlawed, and cigarettes were broken out over cups of black coffee. Conversation flowed; we were young, and the world was at our feet. We talked of things that mattered, and mostly things that didn't matter, but we felt so alive doing it. The room was full of such chatter, and it all overlapped each other in a cacophonous symphony of hopes and dreams. There were notes of other emotions in there; relationships on tenuous edges, hearts broken, losses felt. They all hit my ears, and stuck in my brain even though I didn't know these people. Except for a few other tables, filled with people I did know, either well or casually.
I knew a lot of people at that time in my life, and I often floated between many different and dichotomous groups of friends. I saw a table with some other friends I knew; I excused myself to use the rest room, and I went to relieve myself of the literal liters of beer I had drank only hours previously. (I'll digress here this was a common and mundane action to me at the time, and it was only years later that I learned how precious an ability it really was to be able to micturate, but if you've read my writing before you know why) When I was done in the tiny washroom, with the weirdest door lock in existence, I wandered back out to the table of other friends I spied. They were raucously celebrating the end of their night, which occurred at a different locale than the bar I spent my night in. My presence was celebrated with a lot of warm hellos, and I'm sure I tried to tell a joke or something witty. I don't really recall what I said. We laughed a bit, the waitress growled at me when I was in her way (I'm still sorry about this years later, servers deal with a lot of shit, especially late night, but I was just a large man blocking her way then...) but I do remember seeing a crew of young folks walk in, presumably after a night similar to all of ours. It was a mixed group of boys and girls, but of course, I spied one girl who walked in before the others. She had brown hair and brown eyes, and was wearing an old ripped band t-shirt. Sometimes people just catch your eyes, and in your young lust, you fall in love immediately. In an instant, I dreamed of talking with her, being witty, charming, saying the right things. Laughing together. Sharing a cigarette and talking about the most important things in the world. Holding hands. Listening to her talk about her life, hopes, dreams. Doing things together. These all flashed in my mind so quickly - and then, I put them away as quickly as they came. They walked past on their way to be seated. I turned away, back to my friends. We never even looked at each other. I don't know who she was.
But it's amazing how your young heart can dream up such possibilities and hope in an instant, only to file them away and return to whatever you were previously doing. I went back to my seat, finished my black coffee and ate an omelette at 3:30 in the morning, in the late 20th century. My life went on, confusingly, aimlessly, but with great hope and great expectations. Yet, here I am... over twenty years later, suddenly recalling this moment. This inconsequential night, among a string of many nights and many adventures, and I have to laugh about how my life may have started at 3 AM in an IHOP and I didn't even notice until I was an old man.
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