Some days I wish my life was a reality show and that a camera crew was following me around. Seriously, it's just that good being me some days.
I wake Doc up shortly after noon with a call to his mobile (Doc is a real nickname). I convince him that though he only went to bed at 6 am this morning, he should get up and come to the gym to play some squash with me.
We were going to meet at 2 pm at the gym, and I got there first to find that there is a league playing and they have booked all the courts. I call him again to find out where he is: still at home. His new idea: let's go for coffee.
Discussing the options available to two single guys who live downtown and don't own cars, we choose the Round St Café. Neither of us had been there, though we both know where it is.
We get to the Round St Café: a cozy atmosphere and it's very warm inside, which is nice, because outside it's a typical windy Lethbridge day, and quite chilly because of the clouds blocking out the sun. It's the kind of place where you're unsure if you just sit down and someone serves you, or you order at the counter, and then get served, or neither happens and you eventually leave because the staff are completely vile. After a couple minutes of trying to decide what we want, it becomes apparent that we need to go to the counter to order.
Me: I'd like a full sandwich, multigrain, all dressed, with turkey.
Server: Oooh. I've only got enough turkey left for a half sandwich.
Me: Uh, okay, I will have a half turkey sandwich, multigrain, all dressed, with a side of the soup of the day.
Server: We're out of the soup of the day.
Me: What other soup is there?
Server: We have no soup.
Me: Alright, I will have a full sandwich, multigrain, all dressed, with ham.
Server: We're out of ham too.
Me: What do you have?
Server: Yeah, I guess that would be best, for me to list for you what we've got left; it was a busy lunch hour. Let's see [looks into the sandwich making station stock of ingredients]... roast beef.
Me: That's fine. I will have a roast beef, full sandwich, all dressed, and a large mocha with an extra shot of espresso.
Server: That will be $12.52.
$12.52? Where am I? An airport? Geez. Whatever, after all that, I didn't really want to change my mind... or even try to change my mind again; there might not be any roast beef left by the time I speek.
Then Doc proceeds to tell me about his week at work. He's part of the security team at the mall downtown. This usually includes stories of shoplifters and drunks and hooligans and rowdies. And the conversation always ends with...
Me: And that was a white guy?
Doc: [look of incredulity on his face] No.
Me: I don't really care about the politically correct-ness about it, but being an anti-racial profiler is just stupid. Stereotypes exists because the majority of people behave or act a certain way. One can easily categorise this into terms of race/ethnicity and financial position in society. How often do you find a white guy, dressed in a business suit, stealing something from HMV, or drunk in the movie theatre? Rarely, if never. How often is it a greasy/skid/poor native from the reserve?
Doc: 99% of the time.
Me: What a sad state.
[Sidenote]
This is proof of how small and possibly sad Lethbridge is: both the mall and the café neither have any sort of web presence. Do these business owners not realise the power and potential of the internet?
[/Sidenote]
Meanwhile, there's an old guy sitting at the back of the café whom I have a hard time keeping my eyes diverted from. I was getting a vibe, like in a movie, where there's a creepy guy, like in Breakfast at Tiffany's, that just shows up and follows you around, and then later talks with you. Anyway, he was there the whole time and it was kind of strange. I wonder if I will see him later sometime tonight?
We get our food and coffees, and then Salem comes in to the Round St Café to get a coffee. Salem is one of the enigmas I know (and it's improbable when one considers the high per capita ratio of enigmas I actually know; I'm just one guy who knows at least a couple dozen enigmatic characters). Doc and I wave to Salem, and I lean across the table to Doc and say: "Salem: living proof that there was no famine in Ethiopia."
[Sidenote]
Salem, in his enigmaticity, is originally from Ethiopia, and also manages to maintain a healthy BMI score of about 29.9 or 30. I'm not too sure if he's overweight or obese, but he's got a huge pot belly, which I suppose some women could find quite endearing. I find it enigmatic and disturbing. He's also half deaf, and that's because he's only got one ear. Serious. One ear. The other...well, the other place where one would expect to see an ear is just a crumpled up piece of skin, like a large belly button, but on his head, where there ought to be an ear. This just adds to his enigmatic score.
[/Sidenote]
Continuing on, Salem comes and sits down.
Salem: Hey.
Me: How's it going? What are you up to? What do you do to keep yourself busy these days?
[Sidenote]
I'm not all too sure that Salem even has a job. He never seems to be working, and he's usually asking people, his friends, for money in unobtrusive ways: Can you pay for my bill? or rather: says nothing, leaves, and you don't see him for a week, having been left in the restaurant to pay his bill or be embarassed for not paying it. And I'm not joking.
[/Sidenote]
Salem: I'm hanging out with my girlfriend today.
Me: [Looking around the café.] Where is she?
Salem: She's at my house.
Me thinking: [But your flat is ten blocks from here, and you don't have a car, so you're walking, and you don't walk all that fast, due to the BMI, you must have been gone for at least a half hour just to get here...]
Salem: She's watching movies.
Me: So then, because you're here, and she's not, how is that you are "hanging out"?
Salem: I'm buying her a tea.
Me thinking: [I don't even drink tea, yet I have a box of tea in the kitchen cupboard at my flat. You've got to go out to get a cup of tea? Oh wait. You are Salem.]
Me: Well, that's nice of you to hang out with her by not hanging out with her....
Salem: I'd better bring her the tea before it's cold.
Me: See you around....
I'm currently being distracted by a large influx of patrons at the Round St Café, one of which is a rather tall and fat chap who is standing beside the table of the old creepy guy, leaning over his coffee and food, taking packets of sweetener out of the little table top holder for such things, and eating the contents of the packet. ("Chap" = native guy who is either drunk or high or both drunk and high.)
Salem is also gone.
I finish my $5 sandwich, wondering if I should have had the $5 milkshake instead.
The fondue from last night is pushing its way out, and I've got to hit the restroom. There's only two in the back, one with the stick man and the other with the stick woman on the door. The door with the stick man icon is shut. I go into the other restroom.
And this time of reflection allows me to develop this theory of operation:
When in a café, be it the Round St Café or any other similar establishment, and there are only two restrooms, each a fully contained private commode (ie: no stalls, not intended for multi-use), if possible, without offending others or lowering my own dignity, I will choose to use the room with the stick woman on the door. In this, I am mostly guaranteed that no one has been in here standing and urinating all over the seat.
I manage to slip out off the restroom without being spotted by another patron, although someone did try to gain entry to the room while I was occupying it. The other door was still closed. Maybe that's where the old creepy guy went?
Gosh, all that happened in only an hour! I wonder what other excitement will be entertaining me yet on this Saturday?
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