Happy Accidents

Happy Accidents. I decided to switch things up and eat breakfast in the marina park and then do some laundry. Before I could sit down on a bench, an old friend appeared. We talked about life and he invited me to meet some other friends. I kind of wanted to do laundry, but I went. It was fun and I invited them to the matinee performance of “Confessions of a Cocaine Cowboy.” They wanted to hang out for brunch but I told them I wanted to go back to the hotel and do laundry. When I got back to my room, I got a call from Michel asking if I could meet two prominent NY theatre artists who are in town. ‘I kind of wanted to do laundry before the show...but sure.’ Great lunch, and then I go to matinee. Wonderful performance. Afterward, a Brit director wanted to meet up at the restaurant further down with a mixed crowd of Broadway musical writer, poets, and bartenders. But my laundry...ok. We met up, it was fun, and then I rushed to the hotel to grab my clothes. A local artist/bartender who came to see the matinee was chilling in the hotel courtyard. “Hey...lets have a drink at the hotel bar?’ Nope, I’m doing laundry!!! I go to my door and my keycard doesn’t work. I went to the front desk and got a new card, which doesn’t work. We tried 2 more cards and the hotel says it has to reset the system. It’s going to take 20 minutes. I am now convinced that the world is trying to stop me from doing laundry. Fine, I meet the bartender, he gives me a white wine. He introduces me to other artists. Time passes. They fix the door, I storm back inside, grab my clothes, get ready to go to Laundromat, and I get a call from a director. Nooo!! I have to do laundry!! Director says that if I need to do laundry I could do it at his apartment for free. I go over there, watch PBS, talk about theatre history. His partner is an architect and he tells me about happy accidents. He says ‘you notice that none of the tables in this apt touch the floor?’ Honestly? No. I’ve hung out in this apt dozens of time, but I looked around and he’s right: none of the tables, counters, and desks have legs. He talked about designing a table for this apartment and how each prototype would tip over, and the legs would be in the air. He had an epiphany that he could completely redesign this apt into a futuristic space with tables and counters suspended from the ceiling. The effect is a surreal, clean living space. A work of art that came about from an accident...just like this day. My laundry was done, they folded it, and sent me on my way.