The first thing we see: the exterior of a small cafe, Pete’s Luncheonette, proud to serve Coca-Cola products, with a striped green awning and a virtually extinct artifact of the previous century, a telephone booth. We feel familiar, we know we’ve been here before. Two men appear before us, quibbling over the importance of the location of the second button on a collared shirt. They are unremarkably dressed, and we get the feeling that these are old friends (inferred by their body language and the casual nature of their conversation). The man on the right is questioning his balding, glasses-wearing counterpart about this near-imperceptible flaw in his shirt. He being questioned says he does not “recall” considering such a minor detail when the shirt was purchased, that “it was purple,” and he “liked it.” Questioner doesn’t seem to believe him, inferring with his tone that this kind of thing should have been obvious to his friend. He being questioned uses his pen like a court microphone to plead his inability to remember the event. The man on the right (further strengthening the assumption that these two are very old friends) immediately picks up on this and acts the lawyer and presses his friend, whom he refers to as “senator.” Then, as it fades onto the screen, we read “Written by Larry David & Jerry Seinfeld” as the red-haired waitress tops off their coffees with a “Mr. Seinfeld, Mr. Costanza…” Thirty seconds in and we are steeped in familiarity, drowning in the ease with which these two men interact with each other, and the content they deem suitable for conversational deliberation. Next, the balding man (who the waitress “Claire” soon refers to as “George”) bares loudly his suspicion on whether the coffee being poured for him is truly decaffeinated. “Jerry” assures him that Claire is a professional, and not to worry. Though minimal in proportion to what we have on file for his character through nine years of television life, we are beginning to get a sense of the scope of George’s neuroticism. Laughing at a quip by Claire, he recedes to asking Jerry why he isn’t doing “the second show tomorrow.” We already know that Jerry is a comedian, having just seen the opening stand-up sequence, a structural motif which runs through the majority of the show’s life. He tells George that a woman from Michigan might be “coming in” to see him. For the next minute, we watch two young boys excite each other in the prospect of one of them courting a girl. They are almost pre-adolescent. George’s voice becomes high-pitched as he elates in his friend’s new attraction. Jerry is sheepish and holding back but his smile spills all the glorious, nervous joy of a teenage boy with a crush. But then we find out what he is holding back. He tells George that this woman, “Laura,” told him she “had to come in for a seminar, and maybe we’d get together.” Mr. Costanza blows is whistle and begins the dissection and analysis. He focuses on her wording. “Had to? Had to come in? Had to come in and maybe we’ll get together? Had to and maybe? No.” We are now in between the lines. Most of this show takes place between the lines, or as Jerry put it in an interview once “the gaps in society where there are no rules.” George comes to his conclusion in a beautiful, carefully ordered string of synonyms, that his friend is merely a “backup, a second line, a just-in-case, a B plan, a contingency.” Jerry doesn’t believe him, and in a telling display of the nature of his character (who in many ways parallels that of the real man, Jerry Seinfeld), takes up his defense by kidding. “Oh I get it, this is about the button.” George tries to enlist the help of Claire to make his point, and as he colorfully exaggerates the concerning situation, Jerry throws out a condescending “Oh, you are beautiful.” Those of us who find absolute, sheer delight in the dark arts of sarcasm are now slowly finding a home in this offbeat, fictional world. Claire agrees with George, and he rests his case, now playing the part of fake lawyer instead of Jerry, who takes no stock in his friend’s opinion on this matter, asking him rather “Did you have fun? You have no idea what you’re talking about,” and then asks him to accompany him while he goes to do his laundry. We get the feeling that being with George is his ultimate form of entertainment. Here we get a gift, arguably the very first Seinfeld-ism on record, as Jerry pleads for George to be a “come-with guy.” Oh, but a twist! Claire did in fact give George caffeinated coffee. Jerry slides his chair back and laughs.

And so it began.

- John