A Smiling Clown

The gray and tan checkerboard floor was beginning to drown in the puddles formed by the droplets running off the raincoats and soaked shoes of the shivering as they were propelled in a circle that wound from the fog covered glass doors to the quick stop no more time to think order counter and on to the pick-up area for the endless wait for fast food weight.

Then on to the row of two seat tables looking out into the dismal outside world where a clown face, peering out from within a newsstand filled with the soggy daily news, smiled and wished all a "Good Day".

Orders were placed in English – “the usual”, “large black”, “one with everything”, and every food combination from the beckoning order me, take me home with you board.

The echoed responses were in broken English that created a south of the border experience augmented by the no-English allowed talk among the working poor on the other side of the counter divide.

What were they really saying – “where are those pre-made plastic wrapped sandwiches to put in the make it taste fresh microwave”, “these people are wrapped in plastic like our chemical laced faux food”, “what type of cream cheese spread did she ask for”, “look at the spread on that one, why eat it first”, “what kind of doughnut filling did she want”, “that one brought her own internal filling”.

At the tables, a young couple, both in colorful multi-shade black with one color fits all slick black hair and matching piercings plotted the overthrow of the adult world while eating the national chain, everywhere you go tastes the same, food – the counterculture supporting the counter culture.

Next to them sat the handlebar moustached, bow tied, plaid jacketed, white haired, unshaved man with all of his worldly possessions in a forest green plastic bag stuffed into a two wheeler wire basket from which they could not escape anymore than his thoughts could escape his closed mind or his life could escape his wretched aqualung world.

Then sat the young must be a college student mindlessly stuffing the bagel into his ever moving saying nothing mouth, unaware of the taste or texture of the food or his life, consumed in the computer screen reading the news from the four corners of the round world to better understand all without gaining an awareness of self.

As each table was vacated it refilled just as did the cups of coffee, the trays of pastries, the napkin holders and the walking trash cans.

Having watched the people play the game of musical chairs, I played the role of the loser being exiled and forced out into the rain, passing by the new players who entered in an orderly fashion to walk the circle of orders.

As my remaining hair and gray-white beard were soaplessly showered again, I nodded at the smiling faced clown who clearly understood the world from his protected perspective on top of the news in the box.