ROANOKE TIMES
Copyright (c) 1996, Roanoke Times
DATE: Monday, November 11, 1996 TAG: 9611120008
SECTION: EDITORIAL PAGE: A-9 EDITION: METRO
COLUMN: MONTY S. LEITCH
SOURCE: MONTY S. LEITCH
IT'S A nasty morning. A sharp, gusty wind out of the northeast with a needling rain that seems to come from all directions at once. They have, before them, an eight-hour drive, at least, and they're already wet from all the time it's taken to load the trunk of the car.
So they decide to stop for breakfast. Someplace warm. Someplace cozy. Someplace where the coffee flows like wine.
They choose the restaurant because the sign outside says ``Bountiful Breakfast Buffet,'' even though there aren't many cars in the lot.
``But it's nearly 11,'' she reassures herself.
Still, it's Saturday. Isn't breakfast out a Saturday tradition?
``If we'd gotten here earlier,'' she mutters, ``surely, there'd be more customers.''
He mutters back, ``If we'd gotten here earlier, we'd be nearly home by now. And don't call me Shirley.''
They make a dash from the car and stand in the restaurant's lobby shaking rain from their hair. Shaking rain from their fingertips. The only help in sight is the cook: a huge man huge wearing a stained white apron over a red T-shirt.
He lumbers away, promising to return with the hostess. And then they see that only one other table in this restaurant is filled: eight adults, two babies, with many empty plates. Not even a cigarette haze hangs in the air.
They look at one another. Is this really a good idea?
But, then the hostess appears. ``Sorry,'' she says. ``I'm doing double duty today, waiting tables and seating guests.'' She smiles. Her eyes behind the lenses of her glasses are watery, and huge. She leads them to a table, and asks, ``Coffee?''
Can she read their minds?
She is an astonishing sight. Round as a basketball, and so short she seems to maintain a basketball's proportions. She's not completely toothless, but nearly enough so to cause a second look, and she wears her hair parted in the middle and drawn down over her shoulders: a schoolgirl's style. But she, it's clear, has been out of school for quite some years. Again, she smiles - astonishing sight! - and points to a little folder on their table. ``You can have the buffet, or order off the menu.''
The tattered little folder is the menu.
They say, ``We'll have the buffet.''
They watch their waitress/hostess trundle away.
Was this really a good idea?
When she returns with the coffee, she looks from one to the other of them, and says, ``Now, you're not 65 are you?''
They must look surprised. Sure, they both have a little grey in their hair.
Well maybe they have a lot.
And, sure, they might look a little care-worn, but that's just from loading the car.
Isn't it?
``Not yet,'' the woman tells the waitress. ``We're not 65 yet.''
And the waitress balefully laughs. ``You know,'' she says, ``I always ask. Last week I had this man and woman in here? Well, when I took their orders, he made a point of saying, `You bring the check to me, I'm the one with grey hair.' You know what I mean? Then when he paid, he wanted his dollar off? For his senior citizens discount? But, you know, I always ask, because my sister, she's only 53 but she's had grey hair since she was 50. You can't never tell.''
``Not yet,'' the woman tells the waitress again, trying to laugh herself. Trying to reassure herself that it's only her 46th birthday next week. Only her 46th!
Again, the waitress trundles away.
As she leaves, the man looks over and says to the woman, ``That, I suppose, is the dark side of being carded.''
The woman feels a scream rise in her throat. She's sure she hears the theme music for ``Twilight Zone'' playing in the kitchen.
Monty S. Leitch is a Roanoke Times columnist.
LENGTH: Medium: 78 linesby CNB