Another Small World Story

Some friends of mine and I have decided to try out some different cultural events this year. We've already been to the Pulaski club a few times and last night was our visit to the Croatian-American Club which is in a sketchy west Phoenix neighborhood. They were having a dinner and music party.

As were getting settled in, a guy from the table next to us said to me, "What's your name?" I said, "Kathy." He then asked, "Kathy Pfister?" I froze like the proverbial deer.

See, this is the reason I have to always behave myself in public. I never know when someone's going to recognize me then report on my improper behavior. Before you think I'm self aggrandizing here, what are the odds someone's going to know me at the fracking Croatian-American Club? (Besides the Croatians that I already know.)

He asked me if I looked familiar and he did but then when I saw him with his wife, I connected all of the dots. Mac and Diane were people that worked at Motorola with my parents (and me for a summer when I was an intern) back in the day. Her dad is the reason they come to the events. Diane's sister was also there and she knows my parents, too.

Everyone knows my Dad. I'm pretty sure that's where I get all of the social butterfly skills from.

We had a nice time catching up. Mac reminded me that he was the bartender at my college graduation party. A job that he did all too well because my then boyfriend slept on our couch, posed like a corpse with his arms crossed, and never moved until I woke him up the next morning. I told Diane to friend me on Facebook but I warned her to expect a lot of postings about my cat.

I can't wait to see whom I run into at the next cultural exchange. Because, I'm sure someone will know me.


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