I was so hungry my stomach thought my throat had been cut.
I wanted to eat a proper meal, but the only other downtown cafe was full to capacity and I didn't feel like waiting, so I walked on over to the Coney Island. (see Blueberries with Wings)
As I rounded the corner to the cafe, I was dismayed to see a line waiting to get in. I thought that perhaps, as is sometimes the case, people were waiting for booths and there might just be a place at the counter. The stools are old, well-worn and patched, but preferable to waiting for one of the more comfortable booths.
I was directly behind three women and a young child, a little girl. They looked to be four generations of the same family and as I got behind them, they were griping about having to wait. "Look at that!" one said. "There's one guy hoggin' an entire booth."
I hate to hear griping, especially when I'M in the mood to gripe, but that wasn't the end of it all. I had to listen to them bitch about one's ex-husband, and the oldest woman complain about men in general as she kept casting the evil eye at the poor slob who had the temerity to take up space that he should have ceded to them. All the while the little girl kept telling her mother "I DID see it, I DID!"
"What's she talking about?" asked one of the women to the girl's mother. "Oh, I don't know." the mother replied. "Something about a cat."
The little girl seized upon the opportunity "I saw it, G'ma, it was a cat on the wall!"
"You reckon it was a picture of a cat in a window?" asked the grandmother.
"Dunno." said the annoyed mother. "She's got quite an imagination; it really bothers her daddy when she comes to him with stories of monsters under the bed."
She's probably got a monster for a daddy, I thought irritably. I spied an open stool at the far end of the counter, but getting through this mass of womanhood was probably an impossible task. The women blathered on, oblivious to my "Excuse me, please." as I tried to get around, under, through them.
My stomach growled and I hoped it wouldn't scare the little girl, a real-life low-blood sugar monster standing right behind them, getting more P.O.'d with every moment.
Something was tugging at my shirt and I looked down at the little girl who had the cloth in her grubby little hand.
"Hey mister, you saw it, dintcha? The cat on the wall?"
My heart melted, my anger vanished. There was an angel's face attached to those sticky fingers. I smiled, and shook my head.
"Sorry, honey, I wasn't paying attention."
"Leave that man alone!" said the mother to her child, pulling her away from me. I felt stitches give way in my shirt, felt my own annoyance coming back. The old lady was now giving me the evil eye and I wondered if I shouldn't just push past them, go join the solitary guy in the booth since we both were now on the women's bad side. I stared back at the woman and could see in her eyes that she thought I was some sort of child molester because I was talking to the girl.
I figured I had better get away for a minute, "simmer down",wait on some folks to get done eating, so I stepped outside for some fresh air. As I turned and opened up the door, the little girl spoke to me again "Hey mister, see if that cat's still there!" The old lady pulled the child closer to her, away from me, the pervert.
I stepped out on the curb, and lit a cigarette. I looked up, and was surprised at what I saw:
I hurried back to my pickup and grabbed my camera (it's ALWAYS with me) to take the previous shot and the following ones.
At one time, there was a rather seedy hotel for transients, The Davis, next door to the Coney. When I was a young man, the rooms were two dollars a night, and I expect that the rates hadn't gone up a whole lot since then. You get what you pay for.
As you can see, the screen was torn and a cat was sunning itself on the window ledge.
I couldn't help but laugh to myself, and took my camera back to my truck. The cafe had cleared out some in the meantime, and I found a booth just behind the same women. I had no sooner sat down when I felt a gentle tap on my shoulder, it was the little girl.
"Didja see it, mister? Didja see the cat on the wall?"
"Sure did, hon. It was a calico kitty sunning itself in the window, you were right!"
With a smug look that only women can have when they're proven to be right, she turned around and plopped back down in the booth.
I ordered, got my meal and was eating when the women finished their food and were leaving. They had started down the aisle, little girl in tow, when she pulled away and came running back to me. She climbed up next to me on the booth, put her head on my chest and gave me a little squeeze with mustard stained fingers then looked squarely at me with a million watt smile which I took as a "thank you" for believing her.
Granny came back and yanked her away from me before I could do harm to her over-imaginative grandchild. I laughed as the little girl was dragged away, facing me and waving and yelling all the way out of the Coney.
"Bye-bye! Bye, mister!"
I wanted to eat a proper meal, but the only other downtown cafe was full to capacity and I didn't feel like waiting, so I walked on over to the Coney Island. (see Blueberries with Wings)
As I rounded the corner to the cafe, I was dismayed to see a line waiting to get in. I thought that perhaps, as is sometimes the case, people were waiting for booths and there might just be a place at the counter. The stools are old, well-worn and patched, but preferable to waiting for one of the more comfortable booths.
I was directly behind three women and a young child, a little girl. They looked to be four generations of the same family and as I got behind them, they were griping about having to wait. "Look at that!" one said. "There's one guy hoggin' an entire booth."
I hate to hear griping, especially when I'M in the mood to gripe, but that wasn't the end of it all. I had to listen to them bitch about one's ex-husband, and the oldest woman complain about men in general as she kept casting the evil eye at the poor slob who had the temerity to take up space that he should have ceded to them. All the while the little girl kept telling her mother "I DID see it, I DID!"
"What's she talking about?" asked one of the women to the girl's mother. "Oh, I don't know." the mother replied. "Something about a cat."
The little girl seized upon the opportunity "I saw it, G'ma, it was a cat on the wall!"
"You reckon it was a picture of a cat in a window?" asked the grandmother.
"Dunno." said the annoyed mother. "She's got quite an imagination; it really bothers her daddy when she comes to him with stories of monsters under the bed."
She's probably got a monster for a daddy, I thought irritably. I spied an open stool at the far end of the counter, but getting through this mass of womanhood was probably an impossible task. The women blathered on, oblivious to my "Excuse me, please." as I tried to get around, under, through them.
My stomach growled and I hoped it wouldn't scare the little girl, a real-life low-blood sugar monster standing right behind them, getting more P.O.'d with every moment.
Something was tugging at my shirt and I looked down at the little girl who had the cloth in her grubby little hand.
"Hey mister, you saw it, dintcha? The cat on the wall?"
My heart melted, my anger vanished. There was an angel's face attached to those sticky fingers. I smiled, and shook my head.
"Sorry, honey, I wasn't paying attention."
"Leave that man alone!" said the mother to her child, pulling her away from me. I felt stitches give way in my shirt, felt my own annoyance coming back. The old lady was now giving me the evil eye and I wondered if I shouldn't just push past them, go join the solitary guy in the booth since we both were now on the women's bad side. I stared back at the woman and could see in her eyes that she thought I was some sort of child molester because I was talking to the girl.
I figured I had better get away for a minute, "simmer down",wait on some folks to get done eating, so I stepped outside for some fresh air. As I turned and opened up the door, the little girl spoke to me again "Hey mister, see if that cat's still there!" The old lady pulled the child closer to her, away from me, the pervert.
I stepped out on the curb, and lit a cigarette. I looked up, and was surprised at what I saw:
I hurried back to my pickup and grabbed my camera (it's ALWAYS with me) to take the previous shot and the following ones.
At one time, there was a rather seedy hotel for transients, The Davis, next door to the Coney. When I was a young man, the rooms were two dollars a night, and I expect that the rates hadn't gone up a whole lot since then. You get what you pay for.
As you can see, the screen was torn and a cat was sunning itself on the window ledge.
I couldn't help but laugh to myself, and took my camera back to my truck. The cafe had cleared out some in the meantime, and I found a booth just behind the same women. I had no sooner sat down when I felt a gentle tap on my shoulder, it was the little girl.
"Didja see it, mister? Didja see the cat on the wall?"
"Sure did, hon. It was a calico kitty sunning itself in the window, you were right!"
With a smug look that only women can have when they're proven to be right, she turned around and plopped back down in the booth.
I ordered, got my meal and was eating when the women finished their food and were leaving. They had started down the aisle, little girl in tow, when she pulled away and came running back to me. She climbed up next to me on the booth, put her head on my chest and gave me a little squeeze with mustard stained fingers then looked squarely at me with a million watt smile which I took as a "thank you" for believing her.
Granny came back and yanked her away from me before I could do harm to her over-imaginative grandchild. I laughed as the little girl was dragged away, facing me and waving and yelling all the way out of the Coney.
"Bye-bye! Bye, mister!"
3 comments:
love this, so worth a reread. Sometimes I come here just to reread You. You have so much talent
Thanks Beary. I dunno 'bout the talent, but even if I do, it's a shame I don't have any motivation or discipline to write.
Hey Mike, loved the story, didn't know you had a blog, can't wait to get back and read some more. I couldn't find where I could follow so I'll make it a shortcut on my desktop.
Lana
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