cklarock

Okay, so I'm actually taking a break from my work-morning to pipe up and share my surroundings with you.

First off, I should say that Panera Bread and I have this interesting relationship (Panera is a bakery chain here in the States for you citizens of vassal natio . . . oops, I mean for my non-American friends). I first discovered Panera when my grandmother passed away and I went head-first into a suck-hole of grieving and my family (a challenging juxtaposition). Panera was the only place in Wichita, KS that I could find with WiFi; I would show up every morning to leech their WiFi, email Sophie and talk with you all.

So here I am again, except that this time I'm in a fantastic place and only away from my usual haunts in order to make a three-part expedition into Kansas City:

1) Go to the Apple store and pick up this nifty gizmo.

2) Look for some new cartridges for my turntables.

3) Take Sophie to Howl's Moving Castle! (Does the Cabbage Patch, the Wop and the Popcorn) Im so excited I could pee. I wish Hayao Miyazaki was my grandfather.

But before I can begin with the fun, I'm doing some work for a client of mine-- a PR agency that needs a fairly consistent trickle of effort on my part. I've decided to do this work at the Panera nearest Sophie's jobbie-job.

Now, who hangs around at a bakery in a suburban mall at 9 am on a Monday?

OLD PEOPLE.

I rolled in here about 8:30, and during the last hour and a half, my position has been slowly overrun by retired couples. No singles, as near as I can tell, but lots of grey hair, long marriages and love. Having been on the topic of grey hair, long marriages and love recently, this is what they call A Clear Sign.

These old folks are fucking adorable. Not the bitter, mean sorts of old folks that Im related to, but the kind of happy, sweet retired old folks that can't sleep past 6 am and walk a mile in the air-conditioned mall every morning, then slowly encircle any unsuspecting young whippersnapper trying to get some work done on his laptop and distract him with their adorable conversations.

Tricky old people.

There is one old lady sitting by herself with her coffee. A lone person on the fringe of a crowd always seems extra sad to me. If I was a different sort of rapscallion, I think Id go offer to buy her another decaf find out what her sign is, and if she comes here often.

One of the old ladies at the Big Table, in a gratuitous display of old-person bling-bling, brought her granddaughter with her to the gathering. Im guessing this little girl is about eight years old. Shes bored STIFF, and has either fallen asleep on grandma or is just faking it in order to avoid getting peppered with the kinds of questions that kids hate and old people love: Hows your summer going, hon? Are you grandmas little helper today?

Here are some actual quotes from the table next to me:

"Boy, now that was a great submarine movie!" (I have no idea which movie he was talking about, but boy was it great!)

(Regarding depression) "My mother had a saying -- 'Get over it!'" (general laughter from the table)

"He's a doctor with a very New-Yorky accent. Boy, does he make sense, though." (Boy, Ill say.)

And my favorite: "After 32 years in the Phamecutical industry, my philosophy is to take absolutely the bare minimum of drugs that you can. I've seen so many people messed up because they are taking too many things. One doctor gives them this, the other this . . . I know the guy is going to want me to give it to him, but I'm not going to do it."

Fucking-a right.