To “Sir” with contempt…

Last Saturday, a week ago, I needed to go by Trader Joe’s for coffee and wine. Located in the same strip mall is a fairly new fast food restaurant called Five Guys. They make burgers and fries and hot dogs. That’s it. Nothing fancy. The kind of food that will kill you if you eat enough of it. Only two types of people eat there: Fat guys who are working hard on having a heart attack, or teen-aged boys who will someday be fat guys.

But, I had a hankering for their bacon cheese hotdog and cajun french fries, and it was in the same strip mall as Trader Joe’s….and I am perched on that thin line between fat guy and making the decision to be healthy and thin.

I was still using my cane, as it was only three weeks since my hip surgery. As I lurched toward the front door of the restaurant, one of the three 17-year-old boys behind me stepped up and opened the door for me, saying, “Let me get that for you, sir.”

It was his tone of voice. “Sir.” It was not said with respect. It was said with deference to my age…”Sir” hissed out of his mouth the way it slid out of Eddie Haskell’s on Leave it to Beaver. But I thanked him and went on in and ordered my food.

Once inside, there is almost no way to make a space your own. The interior is sterile and brilliant white. Everything, floors, walls, tables, counters, ceiling…all white. And the lights are bright fluorescent panels…like a good Vietnamese carryout place. The best you can hope for is to establish yourself at a table equi-distant from the other diners.

But, as my good fortune would have it, these three boys sit at the table next to mine. It could be worse, I thought. They didn’t smell bad, or smoke, or talk too loud. They were fairly well-behaved young adults. And as I ate, their conversation drifted over to my table. It was not directed at me, just loud enough for me to hear it. They talked about how they hoped they would not have to take care of their parents when their parents got old…

There was no doubt that my presence had prompted their discussion. I started to fume. I thought of interjecting myself into their conversation by telling them I was recovering from having both my hips replaced, when it dawned on me that it only served to make me sound older. “Old people have their hips replaced, sir.”

And then the sudden realization hit me. I am as old as their parents.

After Trader Joe’s, I came home and put the cane in the closet. And I won’t be going back to Five Guys anymore. This old guy has to make some changes. I am going to have to start reading the labels on the food I buy…as soon as my bi-focals are ready.

~ by travelingwithcharley on February 15, 2008.