Eight of us get together on Tuesdays every few weeks at a neighbourhood sports bar for beers on fifty-cent wing night. We have a waitress who knows what we all drink and brings us the right thing without asking, and it's a fun way to break up the weekly routine, and sometimes I don't feel like going out after dinner, but I make myself go and I'm always glad I did.
Collette and I always drink Stella. Bridget always brings us a Stella. One Saturday night in October (ONE time, when we've gone to the bar for a couple of YEARS now), we went out for a friend's birthday to a restaurant that had Heineken, so we had a Heineken. The next time we were at Johnny Canuck's, Bridget came over and opened her mouth to ask Collette if she wanted a Stella and Collette said "can I have a Heineken?" Bridget looked confused, and said they didn't have Heineken, and Collette said "isn't that what I always drink here?" We all laughed and said she was adorable, and having no memory is part of her charm, etc. etc.
Tonight my husband and I walked in. Our friend Dave was the only one already there, and Bridget was getting our table ready. Except she turned around and it wasn't Bridget. We asked where Bridget was and not-Bridget says "she works Mondays and Wednesdays". We sat down and Dave looked at me and said "wait, what do I drink?" Dave and I asked for a Stella and not-Bridget said "sorry, we just switched to Molson, so we only have Heineken."
So we were sitting there, half bereft, half feeling like our bar had slipped into a parallel universe. Then I saw a bright spot and said "okay, but when our friend Collette gets here and orders a Stella, you HAVE to act like you've only ever had Heineken, okay?"
Not-Bridget was pretty cool. But I hate change.
*trying for a half-assed Catch-22 reference, but I dunno, I'm pretty drunk.