The Luckiest Guy on the Lower East Side

I have a friend. We’ll call him “Z.” Everyone has a friend just like him. Luckier than a rabbit’s foot full of four leaf clovers. He is always finding himself in cool situations like hitting 23 on Roulette with his last $100, getting a first class ticket to Dubai for no other reason than he was the 1,000,000 customer at kiosk 41273 at JFK Airport or sinking a birdie put, a la Happy Gilmore, after a camera stand crashes in front of his ball on the 18th – to win lifetime membership to Augusta.

Now, I don’t know if these 3 specific things happened to “Z,” but I feel fairly certain that some things, not too awful different from these instances, have occured. In fact, one of them did the other day.

Yesterday, at his subway stop, “Z” just happens to recognize the above hipster. Just another everyday, common Williamsburg-ian Brooklynite heading to their job at a Park Avenue advertising agency or the Times Square Starbucks. You know, for irony. Nope, he starts chilling with Steve Nash. They BS for 5 minutes. “Z” gets his picture. They are probably now best friends, “Z” will be watching the home opener courtside and staying at the W in Phoenix with all you can eat raw, organic vegetables (because I imagine that is how Nash rolls) in his penthouse suite. He might even become honorary godfather to Nash’s kids. Or, he could have just gotten to talk with all around nice guy Steve Nash for a few minutes at a subway stop in Manhattan – like about 150 other people do each week.

Just don’t say I didn’t warn you. Congrats, “Z.” The Corndogg is officially jealous.

Now, what superstar might I run into while getting some barbecue in Winston-Salem later today? I’d be lucky if it were Eric Montross.

Oster-Tags: hipsters, steve nash