this guy comes into work the other night...older, disheveled, a little sunburnt, eyes bloodshot, gruff...walks right in and sits down without speaking to anybody - now the restaurant used to be a hot spot, it's fading, but it's still in Soho...it's a place where Ethan Hawke likes to come in and argue with Uma on his cell phone, so THIS man is not our typical customer
but i recognize him
i don't know him, i've never met him, but he's from the kind of small town that i'm from. i've known people like him all my life. he's a truck driver and he just wants a hamburger and coke and to complain about how awful this city and his life is. i ask him about his route, he asks me to sit down with him to make him feel at home...he tells me bad jokes...he grabs my hand and won't let go...he tries to whisper the punchline in my ear...he calls me sweetheart in a way that makes my skin crawl...
each time i walk away i nearly break into a sweat...i can't look at anyone else and everyone at work keeps asking me if i'm ok...
and i'm not. i want to run away. all the things i want to be away from are right here in my city in my restaurant and he makes me feel like a fake and a fraud and i panic cause everyone has just found out who i really am
still, as much as i don't like him i can't be mean to him, can't even be cold...i can't make him feel like he's out of place i don't want him to feel out of place - but we both know he does. he asks what he owes me and i give him the bill...he says tell me cause i can't read and without hesitation i do and he answers, "that's too goddamn much" so I say, "well honey, you know where you are" and he answers "yeah, where I don't wanna be."
i hide at the bar as he's about to leave and he tells me where he headin and how much ground he hopes to cover before he gets pulled over and i smile at him and tell him goodbye and to be safe and he shakes his head and says "there ain't no safe anymore" and I say "yeah...i know what you mean."
