Chance encounters leading to non-chance encounters

One Tuesday afternoon, I was working at the restaurant when two gentlemen sat down at one of my tables. They looked like old friends, and were catching up on stories about work and wives when I approached them. One of them ordered a glass of wine; the other, a drink-drink, I can't remember what. I returned to their table several times before they finally consulted the menu and gave me their order. They seemed like the kind of guests who prefer to be as uninterrupted as possible. I took my cue and kept my distance.

After they finished their lunches, I sauntered up to the table with my Sweet Waitress Smile and offered them coffee and dessert. The man on the left looked up at me for the first time and asked me, "So, what show are you in? You must be an actress."

I laughed. "Yes, I am."

"I can tell," he replied with a grin. Lots of people can. Aren't most waitresses in NYC also actresses? He seemed friendlier than I initially pegged him to be.

"I'm actually in a show right now," I told him. "It's about the First Ladies of the United States." I opened my book and handed him a postcard. I keep postcards and flyers of all the shows I'm doing in my waitress book, for when people ask me, "So, what show are you in?" I've actually handed out quite a few.

The gentlemen seemed impressed. They proceeded to ask me where I was from. "California." The man on the left said, "Why, I'm headed to California next week! Is your play going on the week after that?"

"Yes!" I answered. "You should come! I think it'll be enjoyable and funny." I handed the gentleman on the right a postcard as well. They pocketed them, gave me well wishes, paid the check and left. What nice men, I thought.

Fast-forward to this afternoon: we had a matinee performance of The First Ladies Project, which went splendidly. I had many friends and some former roommates in the crowd, and was so happy to see them there after having gone many months without seeing them. After the show ended, I emerged from the dressing room, still in full makeup and costume. I greeted my friends and thanked them for coming, when a man approached me.

"Hello, Kim!" he said. "We met at the restaurant. I'm Charlie."

I looked at him blankly. Was he a regular? Had I ever seen him before? Charlie? Charlie? Finally, I remembered him from that table of two gentlemen on the Tuesday afternoon two weeks ago. Charlie!

I gasped. "You came! Oh, I'm so honored, sir!"

He cackled. "Oh, please don't call me sir. Call me Charlie. This is my wife," he motioned to a lovely woman with a silk scarf around her neck. He had brought his wife! I was floored, just floored. Overcome with gratitude and surprise and humility, I grasped her hand.

"We really enjoyed it!" she told me. "We really had a wonderful time."

Charlie added, "After I got home from the restaurant, I went to your website and decided, 'Yeah, I want to do this.' So Susan and I came. It was really wonderful. Did you write all of that?"

I felt so happy to hear these kind words. It was like my grandpop and grandmom had come to see the show. "Most of it," I answered. "The letters, those were all real. Real words."

"Well," he said. "It was really fantastic. I'm glad I came." And after two quick handshakes and one kindly pat on the back, they smiled and left.

Watching them leave, I felt warm all over. It's a fantastic feeling to experience such heartfelt support from people you only met once. From people to whom you were just their waitress. What a remarkable thing it is to simply meet other people in this world. Sometimes, a chance meeting can lead to a lifetime of friendship. Or, quite simply, an afternoon at the theater and a familiar face onstage.