I Am Number Thirty Four

I’m in Line near competing Clifton bar owners. They are both fantastc. 

Kristy (owner of Kristy’s bar, a German style beer garden) is very much like me, I think. She likes to know what’s going on, and help out. Proactive about making sure things get done, and doing them herself if she has to. She’s number 36.

Mac (owner of Mac’s, a pizzeria/contemporary dining restaurant and bar),  number 42, I like to call the Politician. He is a hob-nobber of sorts. When I first got here this morning he was just walking up and down the line chatting. He is outgoing and more than willing to talk to the news reporters and camera crews.  This is problematic in my goal of keeping my face off the nightly news.

My chair is right behind Mac here. I decided this was an excellent time for me to get up and snap some photos.

 Mac described their relationship as love/hate. The way he describes it, I get the impression they are like siblings; they love each other and want each other to succeed. But sometimes they want to slap each other in the face.

Kristy has arisen as sort of a “rear half of the line” leader, taking attendance and working with #1 and #2 in line (who have the master lists of everyone’s names and number. They are the lunatics who started the ball rolling. As punishment it is up to them to organize everyone). She fills me in on what’s going on, who’s in line, who’s not in line, who’s a no-show, who’s getting booted from the Line, who’s not abiding by the rules of the Line. I love it. 

One thing I am not a fan of is how people refer to each other by number. Hopefully that will change as we get to know one another better. Because aside from knowing the names of Kristy and Mac, I sort of feel like we are in a sci-fi novel when referring to other people in Line by their number. For some, like Mac (#42) it is a sad reminder that their place is still uncertain; they are camping out all this time, but might just wind up on a waiting list in the end.