Out On The Weekend

Saturday, 11:00am

He Is Not One Of Us (Late For Breakfast)

I thought I would start a weekend road trip with a stop at Starbucks to get a cup of coffee and a breakfast sandwich to-go.

Seemed simple enough. 

I try to limit my appearances at Starbuck’s. I feel like at any moment someone will turn to me, pointing, and in a loud voice scream, “HE IS NOT ONE OF US!”,  and they’d be right. I haven't been to a Starbuck’s in a while, but I knew this one was close and on the way out of town, so I straightened my collar, adjusted my sunglasses, and went in.

It was surprisingly quiet out in front - sometimes these places seem the center of the known Universe when I drive by -  but the line almost spilled out the door when I opened it. I was immediately assaulted with the sensory overload of great whirring sounds and Barristas screaming names of customers over the mellow din of the Starbuckian New York-L.A.-Jazz-Pop music (with an occasional classic jazz performance thrown in to make your ears calm down). 

As I stood in line and began to notice the people who made up the Starbucks clientel, I realized that I had subconsciously left my sunglasses on for two reasons: to observe people without being obvious, and so as not to be ‘seen’ with these people: high school girls in shorts-too-short with beefy weight-room boyfriends holding on to their girls as if they might blow away in a good wind; real estate salesmen in full suits making too-loud proclamations of clients with "unrealistic expectations in this market"; and of course, middle-aged mommies will their heads in the perpetual state of ‘cell phone tilt’ (shoulder-phone-ear) navigating the door with both hands full of coffee while managing what I am sure was a life-or-death phone conversation about trying to find time in Junior ‘s schedule for Pop Warner Football season. I stood in line for 5 minutes, and as it all seeped under my skin and made its way to my chameleon brain,  a strange thing happened; my body rejected the entire experience and gave my thought grinder immediate orders to evacuate the premises. 

I left. 

And I noticed as I left that everyone, not just a few folks in line, but everyone turned to watch me walk out as if to see what newbie couldn’t handle the modern process for achieving coffee nirvana. It was me, and I had not even gotten to the ‘corporate coffee language challenge’ as in “How do I say ‘small house coffee’ again?" So I did the next best thing I could think of...

I went to the McDonald’s drive-thru.

I try to limit my appearances at McDonald’s. They probably get more negative stories than Starbuck’s, but I went to McDonalds and felt proud of it. I know that is not something you hear everyday, but times being what they are, I was happy with my order: small coffee and small fries. Cost me $2.58. Thats it. 

Yes, french fries for breakfast, and not just because they must be laced with heroin (why else would we crave them at any time of day or night just by their smell?), but because I was late for breakfast. No breakfast served after 10:30am, and the sad part is I already new of that curfew as a veteran of many ‘Big Breakfast’ Saturday mornings. (For the uninitiated, McDonalds ‘Big Breakfast’ is the adult breakfast version of a Happy Meal with no toy, though if anyone deserves a toy for surviving an hour of screaming toddlers McDonald’s, it’s the adults. I’d suggest small airplane bottles of booze as an amendment to your coffee. “McBourbon with your coffee?" "Why yes, and Super-size me, please!”).

“Too late for breakfast?”, I asked, knowing full well it was.

The drive-thru cashier replied, “Yes, I am very sorry.” 

“No need to be sorry”, I said, “I’ll just have a small coffee and small fries”, which was an order my thought grinder immediately began to question given that I would be in the car for the next three hours and would almost guarantee me an unscheduled stop somewhere before my final destination.

“Sorry again about breakfast” she said as I drove through. 

“Quite alright”, I said, and I felt like she might just be the nicest drive-thru cashier on the planet. 

My thought grinder figured she must be new.

As I drove away, my thought grinder spouted out, “See there, you not only need to know your place in line, but you gotta know what line you should be in.” That my thought grinder could come up with something that profound and clever at the McDonald’s drive-thru made me smile. 

Yes, I felt pretty good about myself...until I was 5 miles out of town and realized I had forgotten about the two family-owned coffee shops where I could have easily gotten coffee and some thing to eat while supporting local, non-corporate franchised businesses. What a schmuck.

I need to increase my appearances at these places. If they don’t provide small airplane bottles of coffee supplements, I can bring my own.

11:45am

Oh Christmas Tree

Someone put a Christmas tree

ornaments and tinsel

on the side of the road

next to the highway

on a cliff overlooking the ocean.

I could not see if there were gifts.

...and I smiled and thought,

“I’ll never be that clever.”

The tree gave its life 

for some ridiculous ceremony:

kill a tree from the forest

and bring it in the house.

Crazy.

I’d like to think 

they gave it a very special ceremony

when they brought it there

with that beautiful view

for it’s final resting place.

One ridiculous ceremony deserves another.

12:30pm

One Thing, Everyday

I need to create something 

everyday 

no matter what.

A song

or just a lyric,

a poem

or just a rhyme,

some prose

or just some ramblings,

grand ideas

or just some thoughts,

an argument

or just an opinion.

Big or small
doesn't matter.

One thing, everyday

or else

whats the point?

2:00pm

Our Last Talk

When I drive by the hillside

I can see the house,

the place you rest

eternal.

Seems long ago

our last talk.

I remember the day well

but can't remember what we talked about.

I was afraid,

but you weren’t.

I called to comfort you

but you comforted me.

I dreamt of you that night.

You came to me and told me 

not to worry.

I believed you.

I woke up crying

but I felt better.

I still toast your memory when I remember.

Sunday, 8:00am

Leaves

Through morning fog

a vision.

Majestic tree

with branches 
arms and fingers stretched

holding clouds like leaves.

Ken Owen,   March 2013,   Van Niddy Press