Last week, while at band practice, I was reminded of this story. It’s a classic slice of modern-day Americana, if you will. It goes down as truly the strangest 30 minutes I’ve ever experience…thus far. And that’s saying A LOT considering all of the other stories that you’ve read on this here blog. And it was brought to you not by ghosts or aliens, but good old fashioned humanity.
Last year, my band (aka How’s the Soup? consisting of our drummer Pat, our singer/guitar player/songwriter, Richie and little ole me, the bass player) played a gig at a beloved dive bar in Buffalo, NY. Once the gig ended and Pat and I were sufficiently tired from trying to keep Richie from touching and licking every suspiciously sticky surface in the joint, we zig-zagged across the street and slept in Pat’s van. Previous times we attempted the several hour drive there and back in one night but this time we were smart about it. Don’t feel bad for us, in my opinion, his van is rather lush! All was well throughout the night but of course, nature calls and we all woke up in urgent need of a restroom. So instead of risking a ticket for public indecency, we decided to make our way to Niagara Falls and find a McDonald’s restroom on the way.
A few minutes later, we pull into a rather abandoned looking McDonald’s but there’s a fella shuffling about the parking lot so Pat inquires if the place is open. The dude blankly looks at Pat and says nothing so we laugh at the weirdness of the interaction, decide to pull in, and investigate the location for ourselves. Once we get inside we realize that the restrooms are under lock and key so we’re diverted to the ordering line. There’s a fella ahead of us with an oversized, head-to-toe light blue sweat suit on, with the hood-up completely hiding his face. He looked like ridiculous caricature…like some sort of giant anime puffball. He’s asking the cashier for access to the restroom and the cashier speaks minimal English so a variety of awkward hand gestures and slow-talking is taking place. My bandmates see their chance to piggyback on this guys entry into the bathroom so they follow sweat suit dude. This leaves me to once again ask the cashier for access to the ladies room once she returns, which I did with a variety of gestures and slow-talking. (I really do hope to learn Spanish someday.) Once we all relieved ourselves, we ordered breakfast from the cashier which was awkward but doable. Since all of the meals are numbered, we just held up our fingers to indicate the corresponding meal. Then we get our food, sit down, and finally take a good look around at our surroundings. There was a guy completely passed out, face down at a nearby table. Honestly, I’m not sure if he was even breathing but no one seemed bothered. Then the fella from the parking lot walked in and ordered. He could only communicate through an electronic voice box in his throat…hence his reticence to chat with us outside. Of all the people to ask for help, we picked probably the worst person, which makes me chuckle at the irony of that. Then a young African American fella walked in and began badgering the staff and picking up everyone’s order like it’s his (he never ordered anything). Unbeknownst to me at the time, Pat stopped him from taking my food while I was in the restroom. Eventually, multiple staff members came to the front to shoo him away from the counter so he walks up to our table and proceeds to tell Richie and I all of his problems. Pat knew what was coming so he briskly stuffed his face and made a quick exit, leaving Richie and I to take the brunt of the exchange. This guy told us all about his baby mama who refuses to work so he gives her an allowance ($75/week) to look after the kid but when he gets home, she’s verbally abusive, watches tv all day, and expects him to do all of the housework. He’s currently a DoorDash driver but was hoping to pick up extra hours at the McDonald’s but the staff refused to give him a job application. According to him, Mexicans hate black people (and white people) so he was immediately dismissed and told to leave. Eventually, Richie and I were able to extract ourselves from the situation which was growing tense because you have the dead guy in the corner, the guy with the voice box now talking to himself at another table, the black guy shouting about how Mexicans are racist, and an entire staff of “Mexicans” (true origins unknown) who weren’t having any of it… it was a scene that we were relieved to flee. We met Pat outside, exhausted by the exchange, and he was just shaking his head like we were absolute bleeding-heart fools.
So onward we went, thinking that nothing could top that. Silly fools! Never tempt the universe; It will always humble you. We pull out of the McDonald’s driveway, and one minute later, Pat ends up driving the wrong way down a very sleepy little residential street. Remind you, this is early Sunday morning so most of the world was not awake at this hour…thankfully. So I’m yelling at Pat that he’s going the wrong way, when he says to me and points “if that guy can take a shit on the sidewalk, than I damn well can drive the wrong way!” I look at where he’s pointing and sure enough, there’s the light-blue sweat suit guy from another planet, taking a big ole dump on the sidewalk in front of someone’s house…like it was nothing. I immediately was silenced and let Pat roll on, stunned into submission.
That story, to me, is a snapshot of today’s world.
The Unmaker 