I hadn't eaten lunch yet and that deep pit feeling was resting in my stomach. A bottomless hole of hunger was threatening to make me faint and I decided I would the 15 minutes between shut-in visits to grab a bite at the Wired Monk just around the corner from my next stop. I got a yogurt and a Strawberry Cream Dream which tasted like a milkshake made with ice instead of ice cream. Still it fit the bill and I felt better almost immediately after I began to eat. This particular purveyor of roasted bean goodness resides in a heritage home that was restored in the last couple of years. The intent had been to tear it down for another strata controlled complex but when the locals stepped in and had it declared a heritage site, the builders had to work around it AND spruce it up. The main floor is split in half by the old school stair case that greets you when you come in. I chose to sit on the right side, facing the till, so I could watch the people as they came in. I love to people watch, maybe that's weird but I enjoy just seeing characters when I can.
A fella came in to get his usual, from what I understand he is there everyday. He was wearing a pretty cool jacket with the old skool Raiders logo on it (it may still be the same) The guy in the helmet peeked at me from the man's back, the crossed swords underneath, the helmet on his head letting me know he meant business. Just in case I didn't understand the symbols the word Raiders was printed above in all CAPS. I must have waited a little too long to get my food though, that must have been it. I did feel a little cross eyed and I do wear glasses. There is no way I am seeing what I think I am seeing. It flashed through my head, "How do you spell Raiders? R-A-I-D-E-R-S right?" I am sure that's how you spell it. I blinked a couple of times. No, it wasn't me after all. This man did indeed cheer for the…
R-A-D-E-I-R-S
Big. Bold. Right there. R-A-D-E-I-R-S.
I began to smile as my mind began to race. Really? Does the guy know his jacket is a knockoff? That the team's name is spelled very very wrong? I had that same feeling that I had when a friend went to the washroom at the Laundromat near school and came out with toilet paper stuck to his shoe (sad to say I couldn't muster the courage to be the one who embarrassed him, I let a stranger do it instead). Do I tell him? Surely he must know (but don't call him Shirley)! How can you not notice that the team's name is spelled wrong? Then I wonder, did he pay full price for this jacket? Somehow I think a guy that hadn't noticed this issue by now could very likely get ripped off like that. It dons on me that I am heading into horrible person territory and begin to wonder whether hanging out with Jerry, Elaine and George as I have been lately in the evenings may not be having a great affect on my psyche. So no, I didn't ask him about it, to be fair he never wandered in my direction. I did something else. I took out my Blackberry. It has a camera. The cool thing about this is that I can take a picture while making it look like I am checking appointments. Yes, I succumbed to the temptation. I snapped a shot. It isn't on here yet but it will be once I enhance it a bit (he was a ways away and the camera isn't the best). I thought I was being sneaky too… until the artificial camera sound went off (WHY do they do that, why not a pleasant beep or something? All things advanced tech and it makes a sound like a shutter in need of maintenance. How about the sound of a pterodactyl pecking the image into a piece of rock, nice and modern!) and the lady behind me starts trying to figure out why I would take a picture of that guy. It takes her a second and then I see the look on her face… she's spelling in her head… R-A-I-D-E-R-S…
1 comment:
classic.
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