To try something new (and now required) I select a cholesterol free egg white omelet from the delly menu. It has peppers and onions in it. In bold, the menu blares out how many items are included, none of which I want. In large black letters it states ‘no substitutions.’ Looking a bit humble, I ask if I can simply have sliced tomatoes. ‘No problemeh,’ the tall, strong Haitian tells me.
My hot decaf comes quickly. Around me dishes clatter. Bangs and riveting reach me from outside where ½ a block of stores are being demolished and new bigger, better ones will eventually be a blessing to our community. Even though it is Sunday, work goes on. The men are happy to be working at all. Those who will remain have posted large signs in front of their shops, ‘We are open,’ ‘Open for business’, ‘Stop in 9 to 9.’ The parking lot is chaotic.
I am absolutely amazed that my delly has customers at all. It isn’t as busy as usual but starts to fill up right after my order goes in. My eyes pop. A fat lady in cut off cotton pants, an unbecoming blue plaid over blouse walks in with a motley group. In it is an even fatter woman in a white knit top, the front a cacophony of printed bright flowers that cling to her bulbous breasts–that are about to burst thru the cotton. Her male companion is the fattest of all. I am almost sure the room is going to tilt right. With the group is an elderly, emaciated Asian woman who squints her eyes trying to read the menu. Whoa! I had not seen the young child whose dark hair could barely been seen between his parents and the piles of saturated fat. Am I at a delly or a circus, I wonder.
It is unreal. A man over six feet tall wearing a black matched set of cotton shirt and pants has a pigtail down to his waist. I play a game with myself and guess he weighs at least 450 lbs. My confidence is silent but I chalk up a win for my side. All 110 lbs. of me is still waiting for my omelet. That pigtailed man could make squash pancakes out of me and nobody would notice I was working my way thru his fat.
It looks like the fatties have had their turn and now the waiting line holds up the lame, the aged. Two old fogies chat as they push their walkers toward a table. One catches her walker on the carpet and almost falls. Directly behind them is a husky man about 38. His left leg is in a full cast. One crutch clicks against my table as he passes. His lady doesn’t belong in this circus. She is stunning. Her long, blond silky hair reaches almost to her waist. Subdued make-up is barely noticeable. A toddler holds her skirt and bellows, ‘Mommy, Mommy, chocolate milk.’ Mommy tells him sternly,’Shut up now!’ They are seated and I still wait for my omelet. I grab my waiter as soon as he gets close enough to ask if he lost my order. Politely, he tells me it will be ready soon.
I sit and contemplate my surroundings. What else have I to do? This is not the breakfast I had anticipated. Nausea is finding its way to my gut. The lady with the flowered top, the mother in the group, waits for nobody. She takes her warm ‘everything’ bagel in her hands and chomps down on something or other that is covered with oozing melted cheese. I try hard to look the other way but now need to know what the devil she has on her sandwich. Whatever it was disappears in a flash. Non-stop she attacks her deep fried french toast covered with almonds. Nice mommie, nice mommie. She gives her young son a piece of toast to go with his chocolate milk. The daddy, sits next to me, partly on his chair, mostly with his rump hanging over. As soon s his plate is before him, he digs right into the four sunny-side-up eggs, hashed brown ‘taters and grits, a toasted orange muffin.
I take my eyes off these fools and glance at the old Asian. Not a sound has she made thru all the eating and noise, nor has anyone spoken to her. From her purse she takes a package of cheese crackers and nibbles slowly on them until they are gone. She washes the dryness down with hot tea. Wait! The extravaganza is not yet over. Opposite the Asian woman I can finally see a more normal looking person, a bit overweight, but next to the others she looks like a skeleton. The waiter brings her a stack of pancakes, piled to a towering height with whipped cream. It is so high a big blob falls on the table.
Gloriosky. My omelet arrives. It looks tasty. It is folded neatly and browned just a little. The two pale tomato slices I put aside. With my fork I try the first bite of a cholesterol free omelet. It is so hot, I burn my lower lip. Letting it cool does not improve the blah taste. With all of the ingredients in there, I expect something spicy, interesting. It isn’t. Peppper, pepper, more pepper doesn’t help at all. Strict orders from my internist means cut out the salt. Guiltily I pick up the salt shaker and give less than a dusting of salt over the egg whites. I give another tiny shake and I still taste nothing Finally, I give up and call for my check. It is higher than usual but is, in its way, worth it. A movie would have cost more. At home I have a banana that is nearing over-ripe and some grapes.
Movie, I decide to go to a movie that has a 4 star rating. Luckily I locate an aisle seat near the rear. A couple start to sit next to me, realize the lady in front of them has wide hair and is eating pop corn, they move one seat away from me. The lights dim, the trailers are about to start. A male’s voice politely asks me if the seat next to me is taken. Honesty is my policy and I offer it to him, then regret it. He can barely get past me, steps on my foot and when he is fully settled, part of him laps over the arm rest onto my thigh. I shrink myself up as much as possible but give up and look for another seat. I find one, on the aisle, second row from the screen.
Knowing I am not a giraffe and couldn’t possibly sit with my neck stretched tight for one hour and 22 minutes, I put my purse tightly under my arm, take it and my dignity and go home.
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