One of my fave things about California is that you never know WHAT you're gonna see even in a teensy, weensy little town like Cotati. For example, a bum clown couple carrying hula hoops and wigs at 10 am on a Sunday. True story, folks. That's what the hubby and me watched over a plate of eggs benedict last weekend at Redwood. As if I could make that up.
So this morning, this very Sunday morning over brunch, what do John and I see at our beloved little cafe? A scroungy, un-imposing little man that seemed to catch our eyes because of his unmistakeable familiarity. Scraggly hair, combat boots, a Berkeley t-shirt, a French beret. Just another fellow patron enjoying his breakfast and conversation. A little too cavalier and cool to be a bum, even though he was kinda dressed like one. All I could think was, "He kinda looks like that guy from Erin Brockovich." And Silence of the Lambs. And Philadelphia.
After some intensive Google-ing, we find out that it's this guy:
Yeah! You know who I'm talking about now, don't ya! THAT guy. He's in pretty much every movie ever. And I shared an outdoor dining space with him just this very morning. No, we didn't introduce ourselves as I was adamant that we should allow him to enjoy his breakfast sans interruptions. John fervently disagreed. Now I'm not sure which one of us gets to be right on this one. What would you do, folks?