Like everyone, I miss eating in restaurants. In lieu of going out to eat, here's a story about a memorable night in an NYC restaurant. (thread, read to the end, etc.)

In '09, I met friends for dinner after work at Balthazar. As we waited for our table, I stood at the bar and tapped out a beat with my hands while trying to make eye contact with the bartender.

The bar was packed. An old guy — late 70s, sharply dressed — sat on the barstool next to me. He noticed my tapping and said, "Good rhythm. You a musician?" I said, "As a hobby. You?"

"Yes," he said. "Piano." 
"Professionally?" 
"I'm retired," he said, "But I used to be Frank Sinatra's piano player."

I was stunned. "You were Sinatra's piano player?" 
He nodded and said, "Only for a few decades."

The bartender came around. I turned to the old guy and said, "What are you having? It's on me." He ordered bourbon neat, then said to me, "By the way, I'm Bill Miller."

I introduced myself and asked, "Are you waiting for anyone?" He said, "No, I'm here alone." So I invited him over to meet my friends.

Bill Miller joined our party of five or six. He was funny, charming and had wild Sinatra stories.

He talked about partying with the Rat Pack in their Vegas heyday, recording for Capitol Records, touring the world. I was hanging on every word.

At one point he reached into his suit-jacket pocket and pulled out a photo of Sinatra. "I carry this with me," he said, getting misty-eyed. "I miss him every day."

A server came to take our dinner order. We told Bill to stay and eat with us. He said he'd love to and ordered a bar steak. I was in awe. We were dining with a legend.

At the end of the night, we picked up the check and said our goodbyes. We told Bill that we were grateful we'd crossed paths with him and hoped to again. He said he felt the same way.

As I left Balthazar and walked down Spring Street to the subway, I took out my phone and Googled Bill Miller to read more about him.

I learned that, yes, Bill Miller was Sinatra's longtime piano player. But the old guy I'd just been with looked nothing like Bill Miller. In fact, Bill Miller died in 2006 at age 91.

I'd been an easy mark in a low-stakes grift. I felt for my wallet. It was still there. All "Bill Miller" had gotten from me and my friends was three drinks and steak frites.

At that moment, I loved NYC more than I ever have. How could I not? The specificity of the scam, the performance, the made-up stories, the photo, the fake tears. It's an only-in-New-York con.

Anyway, here's to a better 2021. As soon as I get the vaccine, I hope to get scammed again in an NYC restaurant.

(Also, afterwards my friends said, “Yeah, next time don’t invite a strange old guy to eat dinner with us.” Point taken.)