I was trying to log in to my Amazon Prime account so I could stream the Thursday night football game. I couldn’t remember my password, so I had to walk down to a neighborhood bar to catch the game.
It was one of those rainy autumn nights that reminds you Winter is in the mail – express delivery, no doubt. I got a Scotch and a basket of fries to fortify me for what was supposed to be a highly contested mid-season showdown between two football powerhouses.
But, by half time, the game had turned into a horribly one-sided affair and I had all but lost interest. Then, something unexpected happened. An attractive woman sat down next to me and said, “Not much of a game, is it?”
“No, I guess not,” I said.
“So, it looks like I got stood up tonight. I don’t recommend internet dating sites.”
“Sorry to hear,” I said. “It’s their loss, though,” I added.
“Well, he’s an Aries. They’re just flaky by nature. What are you?”
I didn’t quite follow the question, but after a moment, I realized she wanted to know my Zodiac sign. “Um, Capricorn,” I finally stammered.
“Oh, too bad,” she said. “I’m a Libra. It would never work. Well, enjoy your night,” she said.
After she paid her tab and walked out, the bartender set another Scotch in front of me and said, “This one’s on the lady who just left. What’s her story, anyway?”
“She’s a Libra,” I informed him.
“Oh,” he said.
I sipped my Scotch and thought about Astrology. I thought it’s strange that even now, in the 21st century, so many people consider Astrology to be a pillar of reality. Then I thought about how strange my notions of reality must be to other people. I believe in the feasibility of String Theory, and therefore, I believe there must be extra spatial dimensions beyond the three typical ones. Crazy, huh?
I decided everyone should be allowed to choose which philosophy they subscribe to, free of judgement. And to show I was really serious, I wrote the following haiku on a bar napkin as a tribute to Astrology.
the days bleed into
cold obsidian fathoms
where stars forge our fates