Two weeks ago, my sister and I went out for breakfast at a popular cafe near her place. Enya’s ‘Only Time’ started playing halfway through our homefries, and was still droning right along as I ate my last bite of potato. Squinting, I looked up at the ceiling, looked at my sister, and said:
“Either someone’s playing ‘Only Time’ back-to-back, or ‘Only Time’ is a lot longer than I remember.”
Her eyes went huge. We lingered over our tea (a thing we normally wouldn’t do in a crowded eatery, but we had a mystery to solve) and soon confirmed that, yes, somebody was looping Enya. No one else in the cafe seemed to have caught on, but we were some of the younger people present anyway. The staff were all going about their business. Nobody was looking around with fearful millennial knowingness but us. By the sixth-ish repetition, we were in silent hysterics, biting our fists, whispering “GODDAMMIT” to each other, drawing weird glances from adjacent tables.
My sister got up to use the bathroom. Left alone with the seventh repetition of ‘Only Time’, I left my stuff at our table, got back in line, and ordered a pastry to go. As the barista rang me up, I said:
“Hey, sorry, weird question, but I have to know. Are you guys pulling a Salt and Pepper Diner right now?”
Her face transitioned from ‘polite customer service mask’ to ‘sly but delighted’ in .2 seconds. “We’ve been waiting to see if anybody would notice. Nobody’s been reacting at all!”
“Is there a prize for being the first?” I promise I was joking, but she lit up and said,
“Yes, oh my god! Do you want a cookie??”
And that’s the story of how John Mulaney won me a giant ginger-molasses cookie.
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