Saturday morning I got Lucy, my 2006 Suzuki Boulevard S83,
back from the shop. It had been way too long. I’d tried working on her myself
for too long before throwing in the towel and taking her to the pros.
Electrical issues are damned tricky, I’m telling ya. As one of my club brothers
once said when I asked him if he knew motorcycle electrical systems: “I know
they got one lever. Lever alone!” (RIP Trippple Nippple, you’re GBNF). Total
down time: three months. I was having withdrawals.
The rest of Saturday was taken up with attending a wedding
and reception. I worked Sunday, and got sprinkled on on the way home, but no
biggie. Monday was the magic day. Instead of heading toward home after work, I
went the opposite direction. Because you know: motorcycle. I rode a couple of
highways and several streets I’d never been on before, through a couple of
towns I’d never been in (Union City and College Park, GA if you’re curious)
before the road led me into southwest Atlanta and more new-to-me streets. A
random turn wound up putting me directly onto I 75. I was pretty hungry by this
time anyway, so I decided to head homeward.
I decided on a Waffle House near home for supper. I grew up on Waffle House, and in my opinion, it’s almost the perfect restaurant. Good ol’ greasy spoon food for any meal of the day, and everything available 24/7. The only imperfection is the serious lack of Tex Mex on the menu, but I digress.
Another cool thing about most Waffle Houses is the atmosphere. The grill is right behind the counter, and if it’s slow, you can end up being dragged into conversation with the waitresses and cooks. Almost like at a bar, only without the booze. Well, this was well past normal meal time on a weekday evening, so I was the only customer at first. There were a couple of (I’m assuming) off duty employees hanging out in a booth, plus two waitresses and a cook. I’m sitting there, happily eating my patty melt and hash browns (scattered, smothered, and covered), and the juke box is blaring away. It’s kinda loud due to the relative emptiness of the place, but not obnoxious. The waitress is doing her side work right in front of where I’m sitting at the counter, smiling as she and the other waitress sing along with one R&B song after another. I didn’t recognize any of the songs or artists, but they were obviously having a ball. She told me I had to pay for the food, but the show was free. We laughed and a few minutes later, the recent cover of “Tennessee Whiskey” came on the juke box, and I joined in the singing.
I hadn’t noticed, but a couple of older ladies had come in at some point during the song and were sitting in a booth at the end of the place. Next thing I know, one is at the door while her friend calls out to her: “It’s nearly over, come back”. I guessed she meant the song, both because it was fading out, and because the lady who was headed for the door started yelling about not sitting there with it so loud she gets a headache, and that’s why she stopped coming to this place, and, and, and, more sour, bitter things I couldn't keep up with.
Now, to be clear, I’ve been married to two migraine sufferers (I’m probably not the cause of the migraines), so I understand that can be an issue, but this wasn’t that. She was just an angry lady who wanted a reason to be angry. I finished, paid, and walked outside, where my waitress and one of the off duty employees were smoking cigarettes. I walked up, shaking my head, saying “Ain’t it a shame that some people don’t seem to be capable of saying something simple like: excuse me, but the juke box is a little loud – would you mind turning it down?”
I decided on a Waffle House near home for supper. I grew up on Waffle House, and in my opinion, it’s almost the perfect restaurant. Good ol’ greasy spoon food for any meal of the day, and everything available 24/7. The only imperfection is the serious lack of Tex Mex on the menu, but I digress.
Another cool thing about most Waffle Houses is the atmosphere. The grill is right behind the counter, and if it’s slow, you can end up being dragged into conversation with the waitresses and cooks. Almost like at a bar, only without the booze. Well, this was well past normal meal time on a weekday evening, so I was the only customer at first. There were a couple of (I’m assuming) off duty employees hanging out in a booth, plus two waitresses and a cook. I’m sitting there, happily eating my patty melt and hash browns (scattered, smothered, and covered), and the juke box is blaring away. It’s kinda loud due to the relative emptiness of the place, but not obnoxious. The waitress is doing her side work right in front of where I’m sitting at the counter, smiling as she and the other waitress sing along with one R&B song after another. I didn’t recognize any of the songs or artists, but they were obviously having a ball. She told me I had to pay for the food, but the show was free. We laughed and a few minutes later, the recent cover of “Tennessee Whiskey” came on the juke box, and I joined in the singing.
I hadn’t noticed, but a couple of older ladies had come in at some point during the song and were sitting in a booth at the end of the place. Next thing I know, one is at the door while her friend calls out to her: “It’s nearly over, come back”. I guessed she meant the song, both because it was fading out, and because the lady who was headed for the door started yelling about not sitting there with it so loud she gets a headache, and that’s why she stopped coming to this place, and, and, and, more sour, bitter things I couldn't keep up with.
Now, to be clear, I’ve been married to two migraine sufferers (I’m probably not the cause of the migraines), so I understand that can be an issue, but this wasn’t that. She was just an angry lady who wanted a reason to be angry. I finished, paid, and walked outside, where my waitress and one of the off duty employees were smoking cigarettes. I walked up, shaking my head, saying “Ain’t it a shame that some people don’t seem to be capable of saying something simple like: excuse me, but the juke box is a little loud – would you mind turning it down?”
Personally, I’d just had a pretty enjoyable and fun hour or
so after work, simply by riding down some roads I’d never seen. I’ll be honest –
I’m not typically the world’s most positive person. In fact, I’m quite often
fairly negative, but there are two things I can say about myself. One, I never
try to spread my misery to others when I’m in a low place. Two, I can almost
always find a way to have some fun. Assuming I’m not waiting a month and a half
for the shop mechanic to chase down my electrical gremlin…
Anyway, I’ve found that motorcycle people generally are able to find a way to make the best of bad situations. I’ve been at bike rallies where we had a blast camping in sub freezing temperatures, and at others camped in triple digits. Yet, here was this lady, who essentially walked into a spontaneous party on a random Monday evening and got pissed off about it. She obviously needs more motorcycling in her life, huh?
Don't we all?
Anyway, I’ve found that motorcycle people generally are able to find a way to make the best of bad situations. I’ve been at bike rallies where we had a blast camping in sub freezing temperatures, and at others camped in triple digits. Yet, here was this lady, who essentially walked into a spontaneous party on a random Monday evening and got pissed off about it. She obviously needs more motorcycling in her life, huh?
Don't we all?
Maybe I should start carrying a spare helmet with me. If I run into her again, I can offer her a ride and teach her how lighten up.
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