I was at work today minding my own business, (and the business of others by asking how their food was) when an antique couple walked in to dine. (By antique, I mean a couple well into their seventies, or perhaps even older.) The woman was one of those tiny adorable Grandma-types, but the kind that still takes great pride in her appearance. (i.e. hair perfectly coiffed and permed, cheeks sufficiently rouged, and eyes covered by giant designer sunglasses) The man was unstooped by age, towering over his lovely wife and I by nearly a foot, and stylin’ in a vibrantly colored paradise blue dress shirt and shiny New Balance sneakers. I greeted the two of them and led them to a nearby uncomfortable booth that I’m sure in no way cradled their aging spines.
They ordered immediately, opting to share a personal pan pizza (because apparently old people don’t eat alot) and choosing to wash down their dinner choice with just water. I returned to their table with the desired water and two straws, and that is when the real fun began.
(I had just placed two wrapped straws on the table to aid in their agua-drinking experience.)
Elderly Gentleman: Uh-oh. Uuuuuh-oohhh.
(I look around to see if I have in some way silently offended.)
Elderly Gentleman: Uh-oh. You know what this means! (He reached for a straw simultaneously with his wife)
Me: (My eyes widen in suspense as I whisper) What? What does it mean?
Elderly Gentleman: You must have waited on us before. You knew exactly what we needed.
(I have, in fact, never set eyes on this aging couple before this day)
Elderly Gentleman and his Wife are struggling with arthritis-filled fingers to pull the wrappers off their designated straws, and it had just dawned on me what manner of chaos is about to go down. I wait in shocked surprise to see if I’m correct in my assumptions.
Elderly Wife: I don’t know, Honey. These wrappers may be just a little to tight!
Elderly Gentleman: Oh, no. They’ll work.
I watch in awe as two people in the late stages of their life pull their straw wrappers to the end of their straws far enough to blow them at each other in childish delight. The woman squeals in such a way that, for a moment, I can imagine her doing exactly the same thing 50 or 60 years ago on a first date with this man who is now her husband. The man grins boyishly, and I see without a doubt that he would be lost without her.
I think, “Damn. If that ain’t love, I don’t know what is.” Right before I tell them that they had better behave themselves and that our establishment does not condone such shenanigans. 🙂