The time: Saturday, October 19th, 6:00 pm.

The scene: Johnny Brenda’s, Philly.

The event: I’m catching a beer with John. We’re watching the bartender sell tickets for the night’s musical event — a band with a lineup that boasts “members of Interpol.” Interpol was my favorite band through most of college, so this is a pleasant surprise. I must have seen them play three times by now. I had an Interpol ringtone for a while!

“Are they here? Which members…? I bet it’s Sam, I think he’s from Philly.” I’m scanning the crowd. And, sure enough, I spot him. Not only that, but Sam pulls up a seat next to John! My eyes go wide. John laughs, and then he gets up and goes to the bathroom.

Sam looks over. “Hey,” he says.

“Uhh, hey. You’re Sam, right?”

“I’m Sam!”

And we have a little conversation about his side project, his last Philly show, and his mother. Then his drink comes, John gets back, and we leave.

—-

The enormous party on my street that attracted four squad cars and a police wagon at 2:00 am last Saturday… well, that lost Philly a couple of points in my eyes. But the city won me back this week when I found myself face to face, completely by accident, with a guy who helped create the soundtrack to my college career. It’s a trade off, but I think it’s a good one.