My parents, Brad and I are getting a bite to eat at a diner. We sit at counter. My mom orders enough breakfast to feed all of us, then orders three more bagels and some toast.
Looking over the menu while I drink my milk I recall the new Nestlé Quick commercials for their new drinks – six or seven flavored fountain sodas. These are available only at local diners to encourage local business growth in this economy. Exciting! They have them here. I order a pink fizzy one, the one branded with Princess Barbie. It’s funny how they encourage gender stereotypes with beverages these days.
As my mom orders another bagel to go with her heaping pile of eggs I decide that it’s grossing me out and decide to go outside and call Alissa. She’s visiting her parents too. I get to the front room of the diner, where they have a bar and music and walk through the small crowd. People are cryptically asking me if I have something, maybe they mean drugs or tickets.
I walk out onto the street where there are more people hanging around, asking the same weird questions. Frickin’ people these days. Apparently there is a sold–out show at the arena down the block.
Suddenly there’s a loud noise down the street and someone shouts, “We’ve got it!”
I run down the street with a bunch of others, the street starts to go downhill. It’s chaos. A bunch of would–be concert goers have intercepted a beer delivery truck and started to unload kegs and six–packs from the back. Swarms of concert goers starting fires and punching cops.
I run back up the hill toward the diner, hoping to hide in obscurity, Brad and my parents safe from the insanity they wouldn’t understand. I force through a crowd at the door. The front room is packed now, all spill–over from the concert. People still asking for drugs and tickets. Getting riled.
I walk into the diner section, my parents and Brad still chowing away. My pink fizzy has come. I pick it up and walk to the side of the counter whereI ask one of the cooks if there is a rear exit my parents can take. They’re handicapped and the front is too packed. I’m going to… hey this drink is pretty good… drive around back. Maybe it’s easier to get them out the front because their handicapped spot is right there but there are too many people and they wouldn’t really understand that they are literally surrounded with rioting druggies who want tickets or whatever else they can get their hands on.
posted May 31st, 2009 @ 11:56 am