Dinner first at Mas alla del Sol. Blood orange margaritas. Camarones con verdolagas. Chocolate lava cake. All yummy.

Then the potentially life-altering decision. Go to the bathroom at the restaurant or wait to go at the theater. As fate would have it, I chose the restaurant. Stories like this, as in the Gwyneth Paltrow movie Sliding Doors, portray how little things can lead to different consequences and life paths (or, as in the movie, parallel universes, but I’ll save the multiverse discussion for another time). My decision’s effects weren’t that dramatic (I don’t think, but how would I know – if I had waited, would Gwyneth somehow have entered my life – and what chaos might that have caused?).

In any event, as I’m departing a bathroom stall I come face to face with an old friend I hadn’t seen in decades. We say hello and I prudently suggest that he might not want to shake hands with me at that moment. We hold a catch-up conversation while I wash up and he goes about his business (all the while, Gwyneth may have been standing on the street outside the restaurant).

At the armory we are led to the elevator to expedite our trek to the theater itself (see earlier blog on the march required the first two times at this theater). At the theater I run into another old friend – I don’t think I know that many people, but they do seem to show up everywhere. That said, I might not have run into him either if Gwyneth and I, upon meeting on the street, had elected to skip the play.

The play appears to be historically accurate. The two most memorable moments are Franklin’s son appearing to throw up on stage (acting) and Franklin’s grandson appearing on stage with his fly open (not acting). He must have elected to go the bathroom at the theater.