Last night Nathan and I had dinner out. It was just the two of us since my parents had picked Autumn up from school earlier in the day, so we were free to have a relaxing meal at the restaurant of our choice. We picked Wendy’s.
As we sat down at our table, I couldn’t help but look back at the young man who had taken our order. He was about 17 or 18, thin with brown hair and glasses. He was sort of plain an unassuming, but I couldn’t help but think he looked really familiar.
After about the third time of noticing my glances over his shoulder, Nathan finally asked what had caught my attention.
“That kid up at the counter,” I said. “He looks just like Harry Potter.”
Nathan shrugged. “I guess he does. Sort of.”
I turned my attention to my salad, a little disappointed that Nathan did not share my enthusiasm for the Harry Potter doppelganger. And so we sat, politely ignoring the double’s presence until I put my fork down and said, “I have to get a picture of him.”
“What?” said Nathan.
“I want to take a picture of that guy.”
“Because he looks just like Harry Potter,” I insisted, obviously leaving out the part about how I’m actually a crazy lady with a camera phone who has little respect for the personal boundaries of strangers.
I sat there for a few moments, chomping on my salad and calculating how to surreptitiously take the young man’s picture.
“Why don’t you just go up and ask him if you can take his picture?” asked Nathan.
“Because he looks enough like Harry Potter that he’s probably sick of people telling him he looks like Harry Potter,” I said. And I also didn’t want to look like an idiot.
In the end, I chose to turn my camera on and put the phone up to my ear pretending to make a call. I then wandered up towards the counter and turned to the left corner where the condiments were so I could take the shot. Only the condiments weren’t in that corner. The only thing in that corner was a line of high chairs and a bib dispenser, neither of which I needed. Crap. I quickly hit the button to take the picture, tore a bib from the dispenser and hustled back to my seat.
“Well?” asked Nathan.
“I took a picture of the wall,” I said.
Eventually Harry wandered out into the dining room to clean some tables. I tried to follow him with my phone without being obvious that I was stalking him and missed my shot several times.
I had all but given up on the picture, and as we threw away our trash and walked towards the doors, I tried one last time by putting the phone up to my ear and engaging in a phantom conversation with nobody.
I kept the phone in position and hit the button several times. Each shot yielded a breathtaking vista of the menu board and very little of young Potter. Nathan stood patiently in front of me, obviously amused with my foolishness. He kept his eye on the counter and when a shot presented itself, he told me to take it.
“Now! Do it now!” he hissed
I pushed the button.
And this is what I got.
For the record, my parents had brought Autumn to this same Wendy’s earlier so I asked them if they didn’t think the guy behind the counter looked like a candidate for Hogwarts.
My dad said he did. Sort of.
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