VIGILANTSY

Some days just look better than others. The specifics are irrelevant. Sunshine, clouds, doesn’t really matter. I’ve felt like a million bucks on a crappy gray day only to wake up the next morning to sunshine and want to crawl into a hole. 

It’s all in my mind. I’ve got that part. The problem is, how to manage the void in between the 2 perspectives. 

Some people say, “find something to be grateful for, like just being alive.” Sounds nice, but that doesn’t always work for me. On a bad day, I don’t necessarily consider being human such an honor. Just because I might have it a little better than someone else, doesn’t mean the human condition is all that great. What about their dinner? We live in a place where the atrocious is not only possible, but a daily occurence. Our little sick bodies decaying, needing food and shelter, posturing for a better view for the ride down. 

But then there are those moments. You know…those transcendental moments when she laughs just right. Or when the sun hits the flowers on the bookcase from just the perfect angle. Moments that are sometimes experienced and sometimes just a memory hidden behind a veil of AAARRRRGGHHHH!!!!! But even then I still know they exist. I’ve had too many of them to forget.

Today is not my best day. I’ve annoyed myself twice this week and haven’t recovered yet. Once totally self-inflicted, the second time, partially self-inflicted. I’m usually am at least part of the problem when I feel like this. Today is no exception. 

It’s not that someone used my idea for something, it’s that they did it better. Then I said “no” when I should’ve said “yes” because I didn’t feel I had the money. I instantly regretted it, because I SWORE I wouldn’t do that again. 

Self deception is cunning and hides everywhere. And it thinks fast. 

Conclusion? I need to step up my game. Be more vigilant.

FLO AND WIMPY'S...SIT AT THE COUNTER!!!

I love old diners. Whenever I’m traveling, have some time alone, a couple of hunger pangs, and the opportunity, I’ll try to find the closest one and drop in for a bite. Maybe it’s the TV show “Alice” I grew up watching, with Flo, the trash talking waitress and her tarnished heart of gold, I don’t know. But there’s something about them. 

The best ones aren’t the big chains. A good diner shouldn’t be decorated by a district manager 1000 miles away. It should be smaller. More personal. That’s why the locals go there. And that’s who I want to see. 

The best way to experience them? Alone. Sitting at the counter. A table or booth is nice, and eating with a friend is a great way to spend an hour, but it’s not like being alone at the counter. If you really want a taste of what’s going on there, that’s the place to sit.  

Today’s choice? Wimpy’s Diner. I walked by a couple times deciding whether or not to go in. Little strip mall restaurants can backfire on you if you’re not careful. It’s got to have the right vibe and the blinding sun reflecting on the window made it hard to see in. But on my second pass, while looking for something else, I happened to catch the name on a sign partially hidden by the door. I couldn’t resist. Wimpy’s Diner. My mind was immediately launched back to memories of all the Popeye cartoons I watched growing up…”I’ll gladly pay you Tuesday for a hamburger today,” Wimpy would say. 

I thought, “how can I not try this place?” 

I open the door to walk in, and it’s everything I hoped for. Red plastic booths line the wall, and there is an elderly wait staff that looks like they’ve been there for decades. Coat racks. Funky signs….and a small counter. 

“Counter ok?” I ask one of the waitresses? 

“Of course.”

I sit down and she hands me a menu. There’s one other guy waiting for a To Go order sitting next to me. He’s buried in his iPhone. 

There is something about going almost anywhere alone. Whether it’s just running to the local market down the street, or renting a flat in Madrid for the summer. It’s an opportunity. A simple smile or lightweight comment about how cold it is outside can lead to a deep conversation about childhoods, work issues, creativity or rocky marriages. That’s the thing about most of us. We want to connect. We’re looking for it. All we need is an open door. 

“When are you outta here?” One says to another. 

“I’m almost done. Who’s coming in?”

“I don’t know.”

“This salad is mine.” 

“Who’s garlic toast is this?” 

Suddenly I’m in the club. My proximity makes me inescapable. Sitting at the counter at Wimpy’s, I find myself included in conversations I would never get a glimpse of sitting anywhere else. It’s like hanging out with the staff while they’re working. They know I can hear everything, so they might as well include me. It’s beautiful. 

A group of elderly men who are obviously regulars get ready to leave behind me, and Tony, our waitress, gives one a hug.  

“I’m old” he says. “450 horsepower in my car was too much, so I traded it in. You get old and things slow down.” He’s talking to Tony, but he looks at me and shrugs. 

Tony responds, “We’re not older. We’re better” with a sarcastic grin. 

I decide to chime in. “Smarter.” 

They all smile, apparently unaware or unconcerned that I’m a stranger butting into their conversation. 

I hear one of the other men behind me say “I’m going to get a manicure. Then home for a nap.”

“WWWWhhhhhaaaaattttttt?” his friend can’t believe it. 

A few more flirty comments with Tony, and the guys leave. 

I eat as slowly as possible. This is to be savored. All of it. My burger is actually good, which is really just a bonus. I already got what I came for. The experience. I finish up, thank Tony and tell her how good my lunch was. We walk up front together so I can pay and be on my way. Finally I put on my coat, and walk out the door, leaving my new friends behind. 

Part of me wants to go back there tomorrow, but I know better. Maybe someday, but the glimpse I’ve been given into their world is as good as it will ever get. If I did go back tomorrow, I’m sure I would enjoy myself, but I’d be looking for an experience I already had. And in chasing the past, I would no longer able to see how beautiful it truly is there. It’s better to leave perfect alone.