The Legend of Non-Stoppable Star.

Hello friends,

Its been a while since I've had much of anything to say.

I'd like to take this opportunity to share an invaluable cautionary tale.

Last night, I had the pleasure of spending the evening with some friends who were visiting Chicago. We were having a lovely evening at a quaint little al fresco dining establishment called Moody's. Misty, Ali and I were sharing a couple of pitchers of sangria when Adam joined us. The reader must note that things have been a bit rocky between Adam and I since he failed to fulfill a promise to me last Saturday. That promise? To bring me to the train station. He promised he'd pick me up even after I had told him that I'd be fine getting there on my own. Which is what happened anyway. But I digress.

After listening to some truly distasteful quips, I gathered my belongings and told my party that I'd be back. Ali asked me if I really would be back. I said that I probably wouldn't be. And so, I left. I needed some time to not have to listen to the mindless drivel that Adam thought would impress his old friends. Which frankly, just creeped everyone out.

I took a stroll down Broadway and came upon a bar that I had once been to years ago. St. Andrews Inn had once been a run-down dive, but it had since been renovated. I quickly realized that I was the youngest patron, and the only woman. I sent a text to Misty informing her of my location.

Shortly, my friends joined me. It wasn't long before Ali struck up a conversation with a wise old Indian man sitting next to her. He warned us not to go to the Oasis, and instead implored us to go to Hamilton's. The conversation quickly turned to sports, and we realized we were about to partake in a life-altering lesson.

He began, "Have you heard of the Harlem Globetrotters?"
"Yeah, like Kareem Abdul Jabbar." I said.
"I do not know who that is. But I have met one of the Harlem Globetrotters. He would come into my store. He bought the vitamins."
"Oh," I said, quickly losing interest in the story.
"His name was the Non-Stoppable Star. Because, you know, they have different names than their real names," he said.
"Uh-huh," Misty said, flipping through the beer menu.
"Yes. Well, Non-Stoppable Star left the Globetrotters. He went and he got a trademark for his name. And then the people from the Globetrotters told him, no, you cannot do that. But Non-Stoppable Star said, well, I did. And then Non-Stoppable Star made all of these clothes with his name on them. And now he is homeless." The wise old Indian man had come to the end of his tale.

We sat in stunned silence. Perhaps it was because of the gravity of this man's story. Or maybe it was because we were trying to ponder the glaring contradiction of a homeless man purchasing vitamins.

Was Non-Stoppable Star a real Globetrotter? Based on my three seconds of Googling, I'd have to say no. Was he homeless? Maybe. Did he really buy vitamins from this Indian man? It would shock me. Was the whole thing completely contrived? Likely.

But here are the lessons that you, Dear Reader, can take away from this:
1. If you tell your friends that you're going to give them a ride somewhere, do it.
2. If you start a conversation with a strange person, you're going to have a strange conversation.
3. If you quit the Harlem Globetrotters and try to profit from your made-up name, you will end up homeless and buying vitamins from an independently-owned convenience store somewhere on the north side of Chicago.

Thanks to Misty, Ali and Adam for a great night! It was truly a pleasure spending my evening, night and early morning hours with you. We all learned some valuable lessons. But mostly, we just had fun.