So the year is around 2017, and I’m working at the big Barnes & Noble office over on 17th Street and Fifth Avenue, and instead of creating training about how to sell books and clean the coffee carafes at the top of the hour, I’m looking up how to join volunteer leftist organizations in my area, as one does at the start of the first Trump term, right? My co-worker peers over the cubicle wall and asks if I want to grab lunch at this new taco spot down the street. “Hell yes I do,” I say, because in the grand battle between mind-numbing office work and sweet tacos, the tacos win every time.
The taco place: Flats Fix, this unassuming hole in the wall between Joe’s Cafe and the Cafe Manna bodega. (Flats Fix is still there. Joe’s Cafe is now a Chase bank and a Sweet Chick, because gentrification. That’s not the point of this post.) We saddle up at the bar. Immediately the bartender greets us. Very friendly, introduces herself right away. I want to say she called herself “Alex”, but chat, I’m not gonna lie to you: My memory gets foggy about the finer details. In the beginning of 2017 I was not in a good headspace. Obviously none of us were. But I was kind of going through my “slut era” at the beginning of the year, so there was a lot going on for me personally.
Anyway, the title of this post has given away the bag, but yes, “Alex” was indeed AOC, a.k.a. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, a.k.a. the future congresswoman for the 14th District of the State of New York in the United States House of Representatives. When my coworker and I sat down at the bar, I thought AOC was just going to be chill like any other bartender: Take orders, make small talk, do whatever behind the bar. Absolutely no shame in that, right? And I thought my co-worker and I were just going to shoot the shit about work stuff. (I had a feeling this was one of those “professional development” conversations about where I saw myself in ten years, and folks, I’m gonna be frank with you, I didn’t have a good goddamn clue.)
But we were the only two customers in the bar, and so AOC struck up a conversation with us: Where we worked, where we lived, if we’d been in the city long, how we felt about the state of the city and the country. She talked about growing up in the Bronx, being part of the Puerto Rican community, and working with the Bernie 2016 campaign. She didn’t let on about her fledgling run for Congress, although it was clear to me she had loftier goals in mind. It was a great talk, even if I kept worrying about how much of my political beliefs to reveal to my co-worker (who seemed chill with the whole thing.) During the conversation I kept thinking, “All right, this Alex seems like a good person. Honestly, next time I come here, I might ask more about her political organizing. I bet she’s got a good following and I’d love to get in on that, meet some more like-minded people, and actually work for something valuable.”
Now, chat, life got busy as it does. And by the time I actually got around to Flats Fix again a few weeks later, AOC wasn’t there. In fact, the bartender on duty told me she had quit. “Well, shit,” I thought to myself. “I should’ve just asked her for their info at the bar before. This city has thousands of Puerto Rican women named Alex. I guess that’s wraps, then.” And I’m not going to lie: I just kind of let it go. The relationship I was in was fizzling out, and my coworker had quit leaving me as the sole designer on my team, so I was mad busy with the corporate grind. You might say, “Hey Will, that’s the perfect time to try and get involved with a good cause to keep your brain, body, and soul lit, right?” And you would be right, but depression is truly a hell of a drug sometimes. Again: The beginning of 2017 was not a good time for me.
So fast-forward to the middle of 2018. I’m still working at the Barnes & Noble, but everything is a little better. I’ve been in a relationship with someone new for about half a year. (That “someone new” is my wife. Everyone applaud for her.) I’m playing music at local bars and releasing songs online. I’m hitting the gym more. Life is looking up. And I’m reading the news as I usually do, and the news sites are starting to report about the 2018 midterms. NY1 tweets about a recent debate they held between the two Democratic congressional candidates for the 14th District. One is Joe Crowley, the incumbent, an old white dude from Queens who’d held the seat for almost two decades. The other is Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, civil rights activist, community organizer, and – oh yeah – former bartender at Flats Fix in Union Square.
Chat, when I tell you I jumped out the goddamn bed, I jumped out the bed. “LOOK!” I yelled at far-too-early in the morning, shoving my phone in my now-wife’s face. “I met her!”
“That’s nice, baby,” my now-wife semi-muttered as she rolled over and buried her face in the pillow. (When she woke up she was much more excited about AOC’s campaign, of course. But it is hard to get excited about much at like 4:30 in the morning.)
Anyway, you know the history by now. AOC crushed Joe Crowley in the primary, then soared to victory in the general, and became not only one of the youngest members of the House of Representatives but also a new face for the Democratic Party and the progressive political faction in the United States. I am sure I am not the only person who has this type of AOC story. Plenty of dumbasses such as myself probably walked into Flats Fix during AOC’s shifts and can say that they therefore met her. I am not special. This story could have been one sentence. It could have been an email. Whatever.
So what’s the real point of this post, then? Well, yes, it’s a humblebrag. But also it’s sort of interesting to see someone who I randomly met on a lunch break become one of the most ubiquitous faces in American politics. A lot can happen in ten years. One minute you’re just shooting the shit with the bartender about volunteer work while getting a little too day drunk, and the next you’re watching fuckin’ Fox News complain about that bartender-turned-congresswoman potentially running for president in 2028. Maybe the point of the post is that humble but well-prepared beginnings – working the bar, having little-but-big conversations with strangers, organizing action committees out of a paper bag – are all it takes to get where you need to go.
Actually, here’s the real point of the post: If you’re already thinking about the 2028 election, you need to go outside and touch grass. We barely just got out of the 2024 election, and who knows if we’re going to have a 2026 midterms, you silly banana. Focus on today. We’ve got work to do.
