I sit in my regular booth, at the Montana Galley, the one back by the kitchen.  It's just after lunch, about one-thirty.  Left on my plate; two scoops of cold slaw, and two scoops of potato salad.  Helena, the owner, sits right next to me.  She's very blond.  She makes it all worthwhile.  My hand on her knee, I nurse a tall glass of buttermilk.

Three men stride toward us.

"Brentwood.  It's me."

"Well,"  I say.  "As I live and breathe, Diego Garcia, President of the Fresh Air Cab Company.  Sit.  Take the load off, guys."

"Meet Coco Crisp.  From the Oakland A's."

"Hello," says Coco.  "Diego says he knew you, the Sports Blog guy.  I read you all the time."

"I'm Terry Kiser."  says the other.  "Full time actor, part time dancer."  He giggles.

They all shake.

"Dancing.  It's what the entire team is doing now." says Coco.

"They're on their way to do a segment on Sports Center," says Diego.  "But they're back to Oakland right after.  Ready for tomorrow's game.  Quick stop over."

"I get to throw out the first pitch, at tomorrow's game." says Terry.

They slide into the booth.  Helena pushes up tight against me.  Nice.

"So, Woody," says Diego. "Reason I brought Coco. I wanted you to see form the horses mouth...not that you're a horse?  Wait, that didn't come out right..."

"Diego thought you'd like to see me do the Bernie?  Why not?  I'm game. It's a lot of fun."

Teenagers shove through the front door, and sit at the next booth.  Books, lap tops, back packs, skate boards.  Their voices are loud and laughing.

"The Bernie," says Terry.  "It's a dance got started when ISA, the rapper, came out with 'Movin' like Bernie.'  It's caught on big time with the A's."

"We started playing it in the clubhouse," says Coco.  "Brandon Inge plays it now every time he comes up to bat.  It's all over YouTube."

"You can show us?  Maybe?," says Helena.  She smiles at me, then at the three.  "If, it's not too much...trouble..."

"Nobody can do it better than Terry," says Coco.  "The original."

???It's going to be on national TV," says Terry.  "ESPN and everything.  After I throw out the first pitch, I'll start doing the Bernie on the mound, and I might go into left field and end up at home plate. We'll see what happens. I'll make it funny.???

A young man in the next booth looks over.  "Hello... you're talking about the Bernie? Hey...Look, it's Terry Kiser...It's Bernie."

Terry waves his hand, and smiles.

"Mr. Kiser, Holy Cow,"  says another.  "We do the Bernie at all of our baseball games.  Wait 'til they hear..."

Terry looks at me, scootches out of the booth, and raises his hands for quiet.  "The Bernie. Ladies and Gentlemen."  He raps.  "It' s a hyphy-esque dance craze in which you hold yo head back like a nosebleed comin' through, likeeee this, while you let your body get goosey loosey, Movin' it Like Bernie.  Weekend At Bernie's."

Coco slides out.  Head back, arms hang down, loose, he sways forward, and backwards.  "Tonight," he says.  "I'm gon thizz, crunk get loose and Movin' it Like Bernie! Get dead and dumb.  Oooohweee."

I look over at the kitchen.  Five heads stick out the door.  They push to see, with wide eyes, grinning.

"You guys, so yesterday," says a tall girl from the next booth.  She crawls under the booth and pops up next to Terry.  A young man comes out with her.  "We go one step further."

Girl: "Pickawwwwww!"

Guy: "What are you doing?"

Girl: "Pickawwwwww!"

Guy: "That's such a cool dance move, let me try!"

Girl and Guy: "Pickawwwwwwww!"

Girl and Guy: "What are we doing?"


Then the entire booth: "Doin' it right, it's bad ass."

Helena elbows me out.  Bending backward, then forward, arms hanging,  "Woody, we gotta get mugs and t-shirts made. I'm Movin' it Like Bernie.'"  And she is.

"Come on," says Coco.  He's up, out of the booth, and starts movin' it.

And we all do, Conga Style, Movin' it Like Bernie, through the booths, the tables, through the kitchen, and out again.  Outside, we deposit Terry and Coco back into Diego's Fresh Air Cab, and off they roar, toward Burbank, and their interview.

My arm around Helena, we wave as they leave.  Testos-Adrenal exhilarated, I say, "Now that's how you Movin' it Like the...Vertical...Bernie.  I wonder, we could maybe, you think, try Movin' it Like a...Horizontal...Bernie?"

Helena looks up at me, a slight smile.   "Horizontal?  Why am I not surprised you'd say that.  But...I guess...but later, Mister.  I still got a dinner crowd to get ready for?"




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