This is the story of how I met my legal partner, Ferdy Smith. It involves, not surprisingly, a person in a giant panda costume.
It was my twenty-fifth birthday and my final year of law school, and some friends decided to take me out to celebrate. The plan was simple. We would start at my friend Michael’s apartment and then move on to a nice restaurant in midtown before heading to an upscale bar near my apartment for the night. We’d finish with some pizza.
We arrived at the first stop, Flip Hattery’s Steakhouse, and I sauntered on up to the maitre’ d. Armed with a generous tip, I shook his hand and asked if our reservation was ready. “Digglewink,” I told him, “party of five,” and slipped the three quarters into his palm. “Your table is ready,” he told me. “But I received the call about an hour ago and it seems there is an extra person joining you.” I looked around at my friends, all of whom shrugged, and told the maitre d’ that this was fine.
After we finished our first round of beers, a commotion seemed to come over the bar. I looked up then and was confused to find standing in the doorway a person in a giant panda suit. It looked exactly like this. My confusion only grew when the bear walked over to our table, pulled out the sixth chair, and silently sat down.
A few important things to note: First, as per my lifelong birthday tradition, I was dressed like Superman. Second, I could not conclusively rule out the possibility that this was, in fact, a real bear. I was a city boy, remember, and thus possessed a limited knowledge of southeastern Asian wildlife. Also, I was high. However, sensing the lack of alarm among my fellow restaurant patrons, I assumed it was a person and calmed down.
What happened next was amazing, because what happened next was nothing. We resumed our dinner and our casual conversation, each of us convinced that the others were playing a prank on us and refusing to show any sign of nervousness or confusion for risk of becoming the butt of a joke. So, we continued our dinner. And after a while, we developed a sort of Stockholm Syndrome with the bear, coming to value its once-intrusive presence. The panda, to his credit, acted like anyone would act with a new group of people. He was quiet, tentative, deferential. He was indeed a gentleman.
At the next bar – and while walking the city streets – we found the bear to be quite an attraction. Ladies flocked to him by the dozens. Tourists were waved over for photos. Toothless smiles were provoked from even the most bitter of the homeless. Still, I wondered who – or what – could be inside the suit. Our friend Thomas? A candid camera game show host? Perhaps a series of increasingly smaller bears?
It wasn’t until we poured out of the final bar and waited in line at the nearest pizza place that things finally got creepy. “Awesome bear!” a young man waiting in line ahead of me said.
“Thanks!” I said.
“So, who is he?”
“I don’t know.” I laughed. “Fellas?” My friends and all looked at each other and the smiles quickly faded from our faces. It seemed that no one really knew the answer. Soon our gazes transferred from each other to the bear. Yes, the giant panda bear was still glaring down at us, staring blankly down at us. Slowly, he lifted his arm and waved at us and then left the pizza place and walked away.
“Wait!” I called after him. My friends followed me into the street. “Hey! Aren’t you going to tell us who you are?” The bear paused on the busy sidewalk and turned as if to consider this. Slowly, he reached up and – as we waited with mouths agape – removed his massive head. Standing there, grinning in the streetlamp’s light, was — I have no idea. None of us recognized him. To this day, his identity remains a complete mystery.
As we walked back inside the pizza place, the young man who had been in line ahead of me stopped me and pointed at the bear, walking headless out of sight. “Who was that guy?” the young man asked.
“I have no clue,” I told him.
“Oh. Well, anyway, my name is Ferdinand.” And that’s how I met Ferdy Smith.
Digglewink's World 
