I was never one for routines. So how come, now at almost 54, my days have begun to mirror themselves?
Every morning I walk or take the Subway to Austin Street to the same coffee shop/bakery, sit in the same chair and order the same thing. I've become a sober character from Cheers. It's funny because this place is like Cheers. The same colorful characters come in everyday. They're as strange and presumably lonely as the characters on Cheers.
I sit there, in this place "where everybody knows your name," and listen to the guy who spends all of his spare time phoning sports talk radio, to the elderly man who knows what the President need to do to fix the economy, to the Rabbi who conducts an adult education class about Judaism there and many others.
When the strange ones are there the waitress signals me by saying, "Warning, Danger, Will Robinson!"
I expect someday soon that I'll walk in the crowd will shout "Marc!" A waitress will say, "What are you up to Mr. Sherman?" And I will have to say, just like Norm, "My ideal weight, if I were 8 feet tall."
Questions abound me! Do we all fall into routines? Is this a function of comfort or age? Does the PD keep me from venturing beyond my universe? Would I go elsewhere if not for the great Cappuccino muffin? Do you want fries with that? Is it OK to kiss on the first date?
No comments:
Post a Comment