It’s 1955, I’m sure of it.
I am in a diner, having breakfast.
Never been here before, but the waitress poured me a cup of coffee when I sat down without my having said anything.
This is how she took my order.
“What’ll you have, sweetie?”
She is snapping her gum as she takes my order.
The fact that she is about 70 is almost an afterthought.
And then, Vince came in.
I know his name is Vince, because the hostess, my waitress and several customers all said “Vince” when he came in.
He sat at the bar with the air of a man in his place of power and confidence.
He never ordered, but he got coffee, eggs and toast.
Pretty much all he did from when he came thru the door, till he walked out about an hour later, was hit on the waitress.
Did I mention he looked to be in his 70’s?
The counter I am sitting at with Vince has a full view of the parking lot.
Vince rolled into the parking lot in a vintage Buick Roadmaster, circa 1955.
Thats the one with the steel dashboard.
Like Jay Leno said, you hit your head on that, they hose it off and sell it to someone else.
I watched the interplay between Vince and the waitress and really felt better about life.
That makes me nervous, because I rarely feel better about life. (Call me a cynic, But I am usually convinced we are all fucked and out to screw each other over as a general rule.)
There was an innocence to the symbiotic relationship.
If either one of them was under the age of 50, this would be sexual harassment.
As it is, its a relationship that existed during a particular bubble in time.
Like the attitude/perception version of a unicorn, rare and almost mythical in this day and age.
Eventually, breakfast came to an end. (They don’t offer wifi, and I had some writing to do. All of my stuff is in the cloud and, yeah, its annoying at times.)
Outside, the real world intruded.
I was about four blocks away, the light had just changed to green, when the 500lbs beast in the car ahead of me lost his shit.
The lady ahead of him must have been texting, or just not paying attention, but she did not drive off immediately when the light turned green.
So the beast laid on his horn and began actually screaming.
“MOVE YOU STUPID BITCH!!!!”
There was more, but it was worse.
Karma, it seems, is reminiscing about a gentler time today right along with me.
To the left and back half a car length of the beast and his battered Oldsmobuick, was a sheriff, sitting right in the beast’s blind spot.
And his window was open.
Sheriff’s deputies are known for 2 things.
The first is, they are usually huge human beings that DO NOT TAKE SHIT.
The second is, there is nothing they love more than to protect good people from bad people. (The phrasing there is very specific, by the way.)
His lights came on and I was more than happy to let him over as traffic moved forward.
They pulled into a parking lot and I rolled past.
I am truly bummed that I did not pull in to watch.
But, just in case the beast shot his mouth off and forced the sheriff to beat the living shit out of him, there shouldn’t be any witnesses.
Mainly because the beast deserved it, and I am on the sheriff’s side on this one.
Because some people just need their ass kicked sometimes.
“What’ll you have, sweetie?”