BLITHERING, BUMBLING, AND RAMBLING #26
POPULAR SPOT
Some things are out of place by accident. A fish jumps out of water and lands in a fisherman’s rowboat. Someone on their way to a costume party walks into a Chinese restaurant by mistake dressed as the Incredible Hulk. It happens, and it draws your immediate attention. All attention is focused on the person or thing out of place. So…..
My wife and I were flying home from vacation. We had our tickets purchased way in advance because we wanted to get a seat in a row with plenty of leg room. We did. We got in the emergency exit row and had TONS of leg room. The flight was not completely sold out so we were lucky enough to have a vacant seat between us for the whole trip. In fact the only thing around us was the flight attendants food prep station, on the right, followed by the bathrooms. A space of about 5 feet by 6 feet was probably the largest open area on the plane. And it was the most coveted spot on that ride, like Beverly Hills real estate.
People started popping in. All kinds of people. Like the I- gotta -stretch lady. She touched her toes, did leg and calf exercises, then hung around for another twenty minutes.
That was followed by Mr I -need -help -getting -dressed guy. He wandered up towards the bathrooms, stretching his arms, scratching his back, one pant leg pulled up to his knee, and wearing socks with no shoes. And then he stood between both bathroom doors and just stared around in all directions, like he was lost. The flight attendant showed up and pointed out that both bathrooms were available for use. He stared at her for several seconds, but it was a couple minutes more before he moved into the bathroom. In his socks. Eeeuuuwww.
Next was speed racer. He made several trips to the bathroom, and each time popped back out in a matter of seconds, which Debbie (AKA my lovely wife) commented was not enough time to wash his hands. Thank god he didn’t stick around. Eeeuuwww and Yuck.
People kept showing up, and bunching up around the area in front of us. Stretching, talking, snacking, sipping tea, some just stood there and stared out the window. For crying out loud, what was wrong with the window by their seat?
Despite having more leg room than most of the plane, there were more people in front of us, standing, than there was in the row behind us. Which brought in Mr and Mrs tourist. They took turns standing next to the emergency exit window, taking pictures, leaning in and pointing, talking about what was below. For 10 minutes. It was getting crowded in our little garden spot of leg room. Deb turned on her portable fan because it was getting warm in our row, what with all the other passengers around us sucking up all the AC. And then the tourists knocked over Deb’s fan. Twice. If looks could kill, those two would have been toes up.
This was followed by the toothbrush twins. Two young ladies came up and opened the bathroom door, giggling. Then, with the door open, they each unpacked a mini toothbrush and loaded them with toothpaste. The flight attendant came over and told them they were blocking both bathrooms. They finally got done giggling and brushing and left. Seriously, who asks a buddy to go with them as they block the hallway to the bathroom to brush their teeth?
And then came bigfoot. A guy walked into the bathroom. Barefoot. Eeeuuuuww and Yuck and Good Gawwwwd dude! Yeah, there were stares. One lady nearby, can’t remember if she was one of the stretchers, tourists, or snackers, said out loud that this was a bathroom and he needed shoes if he was going in there. Didn’t phase this guy. He kept on going, barefoot.
By the end of the flight I just wanted my ample legroom back, without an audience. I had that odd feeling, like I had been out of place during that flight. Yeah. Because all the folks who had showed in my spacious seating area, had stared at me with looks that seemed to say “What’s HE doing here?” Like twilight zone characters.
JUNIOR?
I was in the back yard with Deb when a deer came by outside the fence and stopped to graze. A couple minutes went by as the deer munched on the grasses and a second deer walked up behind and lowered its head to the ground and started munching. But something was different about the second deer….. Deb and I stood still and watched, trying not to disturb them.
So, after a couple minutes, Deb and I backed up slowly and went into the sliding door of the house. I continued watching. Something about the second deer was different so I waited until it lifted its head from ground level, then realized, it had short antlers. I hadn’t seen a buck back there since “Bucky”, the full antlered king of the forest who strode into view at that very same fence 6 months ago. And this guy, seemed kind of familiar. Wait, what? Confident stride, beginnings of antlers, and with a female deer, looking, every few seconds, at me in the house.
Hmmmm. Gotta wonder, is it Bucky’s kid? So I do the nod, you know, like Bucky did to me way back when. The young male deer focuses on me a second, then turns and starts to walk away. He pauses, looks back, right at me. And nods. Yeah, gotta be the big guy’s kid.
He stepped away a few feet then looked back at me, tilting his head slightly as he looked right at me. Uh huh, seems like recognition. Then he looked at the female deer and they did that silent head gesture, lip movement, odd kind of communication that deer do. I could only imagine he was asking her “Is that the weird staring guy Dad warned us about?” To which the female deer responded back with the same head gesture/lip twitch/oddball communication back. Again, I could only imagine she was answering back, something like “ I’m not sure, I couldn’t see if he was holding an espresso cup. “
Which, of course, prompted me to get another espresso.
BOLD FASHION STATEMENT
Deb and I were at a wine tasting and we met up with our daughter Erin there. Erin looked me over and I made a comment about how I never knew quite what to wear to one of these things. She smiled and said, “Jeans, denim shirt, and gray shoes- you’re 100% denim Dad- you look good in your Canadian Tuxedo!” I chuckled, amused.
I wasn’t really sure if she meant Niagra Falls chic, or Moosejaw, Saskatchawan lumberjack casual. But as the Canucks would say, “It’s all good, ay?”
SO WHAT WAS YOUR NAME AGAIN?
A couple weeks ago I was in San Francisco and I went to a food truck place. I saw something good and walked up and ordered. “What’s your name?” The guy asked.
“Stuart” , I reply.
“What is it again?” he asks.
“Stuart” I say.
Ok, he says, and starts making my brisket bowl.
Other people show up and get in line. Minutes pass as I wait for my order, knowing it is the first in line. 10 minutes go by, and nothing happens. A guy waiting in line says “who?” towards the window then turns towards me and says “Are you Christopher?”
“No, Stuart”, I say.
The guy who took my order comes to the window, looks at me, and says “Christopher?”
“No (for the second time) Stuart”. He tilts his head slightly and looks at me, dumbfounded.
“Brisket Bowl?” He asks.
“Yes!” I reply with enthusiasm.
“Here’s your Brisket Bowl, Christopher!”
Heavy sigh as I say thanks and walk away. Slightly amused, I repeat this lost-in-translatiom story to my wife and brother -in-law as we scarf down our purchases. Not yet sustained, I had a craving for caffeine to top it all off. As luck would have it, my daughter walked by with cups of coffee as I searched, and she told me that Blue Bottle Coffee was available 50 yards away. Huzzah! I thought ( because my favorite Irish author used that phrase recently and I am a shameless copy cat)
So, I enter Blue Bottle coffee, and again, there are almost no other people there. I order my espresso and the trio of giggling girls who ordered ahead of me get their drinks right away. The guy asked me my name. Twice.
I wait, patiently, as there is only one other customer behind me, who ordered some mocha/choca/misty/late/sissy/ sweetie drink. So, when the next drink arrives at the counter in an espresso cup, I am pacing in anticipation of my name being called.
“Steven?” She says. Whhhhhaaaattt?? I look around, nobody moves. Why would they, they all had their orders. The only person waiting for their drink was the mocha/choca/late/etc lady behind me. Here we go….
So I asked, as civil and polite as I could through clenched teeth and a tense annoyance at poor listeners, “Any chance it says S-T-U-A-R-T on there? “The barista looked at me quizzically. A few seconds pass as I wonder about how our education system has low marks in the reading comprehension category. She shrugs her shoulders, mutters “yeah, maybe” and shoves the cup towards me. Close enough, I grab my espresso and flee.
I head back to my wife and brother-in-law and tell them how I’m now Steven, but, Huzzah again, I got my espresso! So as we left SF that day, we chuckled at how a simple order in the bay area could turn into a real adventure. But then……
Returning home, my wife and her cousin Maureen said let’s grab some takeout local and call it a night. So, of course, who goes out to pick up the order? Yeah- Stuart/AKA/Christopher/Steven. And as I pull into the drive thru window at El Pollo Loco and ordered, a fast talking guy asks me what I want. I tell him chicken, with 3 salads, and cilantro dressing. He repeats back chicken and cilantro dressing. I correct him, stating “nooooooo, I said ,chicken, WITH THREE SALADS, and cilantro dressing. “ “OK, “ he said, “got it, pull forward.”
At the drive-up window, a polite young lady quotes me a price that is way too low and I ask what she has on the order. She says chicken and cilantro dressing. I explain that I told the fast talker/poor listener, TWICE, that I wanted three salads. She paused, apologized, screamed at someone in the back, and corrected the order. Well, um ok.
So I took the food home, having experienced a full trifecta of order mishaps. For those of you just now tuning in, Stuart ordered a brisket bowl which was given to Christopher, who ordered coffee which was given to Steven, who, was given chicken with Cilantro dressing, because apparently, everybody in town knows Steven needs to cut back on the salad.
I calmly take a deep breath and remind myself that many employers have stated how good help is hard to find. Just ask Christopher and Steven.