Anyway, guy looked great in his fitted shirt, lots of defined muscle-y stuff going on, but one thing was odd about him. On the inside of his bicep, which was otherwise a very nice bicep, was a tattoo. It's not the first inner-arm tattoo I'd ever seen, but this one was definitely the most unexpected. Muscle-y man had a large tattoo of a spoon! (Not pictured, because I'm a daft bint who forgets to take photos of important things.)
I admired, and wondered, and curious'ed from afar. What did it mean?
It must have some intense meaning, I thought. That is no ordinary spoon. Maybe there is no spoon at all! That train of thought led to obligatory conjectures of allusions from The Matrix, but I quickly squashed those ideas, because then the not-spoon would be bent, right?
It was clear that The Spoon Arm had captured my attention to the point that I had to follow the rules of the 22 Project, so when I'd had enough of fruitless guessing I walked over and introduced myself.
And that's how I met Vinny. I think. I'm actually not certain of his name, because for such a muscle-y man, he was very soft spoken.
I asked what his tattoo meant, and he said plainly, "It's my profession."
Well this just goes to where my head is any time before 10AM, because I immediately went to, Woah, he's a spoon maker? Crafter of spoons? My, that's unreal. Then again, I've never thought about who makes our spoons before.
Then he elaborated and I felt like a fool: he's a chef, of course.
And that was it! I sort of neglected him for the rest of the train ride, and completely forgot to get his info to send him a link to the article, but that's how I met The Man Who Might Be Called Vinny the Chef.
I hope to see him on one of those food TV shows one day, just to finally know his name. And to say, "I met that guy when I was living in the Greatest City on Earth*!"
(*Citation needed.)
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