Sunday, December 04, 2011

Genius Waitress, Indeed

I humbly reprint the following, which a bartender I work with printed and posted in our wait area. Oh, how true it sounds! And if it's not, I want it to be. I think Still Life with Woodpecker is at the top of my reading list. Thank you, Tom Robbins.

Genius Waitress


Of the genius waitress, I now sing.

Of hidden knowledge, buried ambition, and secret
sonnets scribbled on cocktail napkins; of aching
arches, ranting cooks, condescending patrons, and eyes
diverted from ancient Greece to ancient grease; of
burns and pinches and savvy and spunk; of a uniquely
American woman living a uniquely American compromise,
I sing. I sing of the genius waitress.

Okay, okay, she's probably not really a genius. But
she is well-educated. She has a degree in Sanskrit,
ethnoastronomy, Icelandic musicology, or something
equally valued in contemporary marketplace. Even if
she could find work in her chosen field, it wouldn't
pay beans--so she slings them instead. (The genuis
waitress is not to be confused with the
aspiring-actress waitress, so prevalent in Manhattan
and Los Angeles and so different from her sister in
temperament and I.Q.)

As a type, the genius waitress is sweet and sassy,
funny and smart; young, underestimated, fatalistic,
weary, cheery (not happy, cheerful: there's a
difference and she understands it), a tad bohemian,
often borderline alcoholic, frequently pretty (though
her hair reeks of kitchen and bar); as independent as
a cave bear (though ever hopeful of "true love") and,
above all, genuine.

Covertly sentimental, she fusses over toddlers and old
folks, yet only fear of unemployment prevents her from
handing an obnoxious customer his testicles with his
bill.

She doesn't mind a little good-natured flirting, and
if you flirt with verve and wit, she may flirt back.
Never, however, never try to impress her with your
resume. Her tolerance for pretentious Yuppies ends
with her shift, sometimes earlier. She reads men like
a menu and always knows when she's being offered
leftovers or an artificially inflated souffle.

Should you ever be lucky enough to be taken home by
her to that studio apartment with the jerry-built
bookshelves and Frida Kahlo posters, you will discover
that whereas in the public dining room she is merely
as proficient as she needs to be, in the private
bedroom she is blue gourmet virtuoso. Five stars and
counting! Afterward, you can discuss chaos theory or
the triple aspects of the mother goddess in universal
art forms--while you massage her swollen feet.

Eventually, she leaves food service for graduate
school or marriage; but unless she wins a grant or a
fair divorce settlement, chances are she'll be back, a
few years down the line, reciting the daily specials
with her own special mixture of warmth and ennui.

Erudite emissary of eggs over easy, polymath purveyor
of polenta and prawns, articulate angel of apple pie,
the genius waitress is on duty right now in hundreds
of U.S. restaurants, smile at the ready, sauce on the
side. So brush up on your Schopenhauer, place your
order--and tip, mister, tip. She deserves a break
today.

Of her, I sing.

Tom Robbins
Playboy, 1991

Friday, February 04, 2011

Angels Among Us

I am one of those people who believe in things like angels, and God, and miracles. I am always astounded by those who don't believe because, as evidenced on Tuesday night, there are most definitely angels sent to help us when we need it most.

My Tuesday started with my usual cup of coffee, surfing the web, and my iTunes soothing me. I heard a train whistle blow from inside my brick-sided fortress, which was a little unusual but welcome since those train whistles are little hellos from my departed father. I always smile a little when I hear a train. Having arrived back in the town in which I belong less than a month ago, I took that train sound as nothing but glad tidings from my dad.

When I went out into the cold to brush off the new snow from my car about an hour later, another train whistle blew. This one had a foreboding echo to it. It actually stopped me mid swipe to tilt my head, look upward, and silently question my daddy about what he was trying to say to me. A small chill ran through me, and there was an honest fear in my heart. I shook it off because I had to get to my first job of the day.

I muddled through my day at the school, then got to my second job on time. I was uneasy because of the blizzard forecast, and hoped that I would get done before the roads got too bad to get home. As is usually the case when you are hoping to catch a break, I ended up being at work very late. However, I was determined that I could make it home to sleep in my own bed. I had to! I had not had a day off in two weeks, and was sure the storm would shut everything down for Wednesday, ensuring my well-earned day at home. I'd even taken a roast from the freezer Tuesday morning in preparation for my wondrous day without work!

When my work was finally done, I bundled up to face the fierce wind and snow, trudged through it to my car, and brushed the considerable build-up from my car. As I backed out of the lot, the car dragged. I made it to the exit before I was completely stuck. Ugh! This could not be happening! Giving up, I went back in to announce my defeat. A co-worker with more optimism than I popped up and nearly shouted, "Let's go get you out!"

After more than a half hour, he did get me out and facing in the right direction! The normally bustling avenue had little traffic, so he parked me with hazards flashing to let me take the wheel. His final words to me were, "Just get in that lane and stay in it all the way home!" God bless him; I had given up.

In-town was that snowy leftover slop that the plows don't quite get pushed aside. Truthfully, it sucked, and I wasn't sure I wouldn't get stuck just trying to get going at stoplights. Arriving at the interstate area, the road suddenly cleared. Snow was blowing across the road, but it was bare concrete. "Piece of cake!" I thought to myself. 35 mph was going to rock the ride home!

And then that changed. Traffic departed in the next town's exits like rats jumping a sinking ship. That chat I'd had with a co-worker earlier about the ideal situation being able to have a leader in this kind of weather seemed to be a real fantasy. "Even better if he takes your exit," I had laughed! The truck I had gotten behind survived the first few exits and I was grateful for every mile I had with his tail lights to follow. The sudden drifts were known because I saw the snow he kicked up. The minor white-outs were no problem because his tail lights were my guide. Every mile with this truck was a comfort. I drove uneasily waiting for the impending blinker. Every car we passed that was in the ditch brought back that train whistle from the morning. Was that the message my father had for me? Was he trying to let me know he knew I would be needing his comfort while I sat freezing in a ditch under five feet of drifting snow? I shrugged off the thought and concentrated on those tail lights.

When we'd passed every exit that came before mine, I realized that I would have this angel's lights to guide my way to my own exit. Thank God for sending this man to drive us through this ferocious storm. So many times in those long slow miles I had given thanks for this truck. The driver was amazing. At one point, I was sure he was drifting to the right and would end up in the ditch. I steered my own car to the left, only to hit the grooves on the left side that warns of the ditch if you don't right yourself. I could not believe it!! I followed my angel without question after that.

He guided us between cars in the ditch, complete white-outs, drifts...keeping us at the right speed without getting stuck. There were only a few times the white-outs were so bad that I lost his tail lights. In those moments, I knew how much worse his drive was than mine. I am not sure I would have been okay without this truck in front of me. Getting on the road at the peak of the blizzard was not my best decision, but I am stubborn, and I wanted to be home for my day off. Staying at a friend's house was not what I wanted to do. Silly, stupid, stubborn girl!

I slowed down to try to make my first (usual) exit, but was unsure about it even before I got to it. One of the cars we passed had taken an exit that was drifted at least six feet and was stopped dead in its tracks. That scared me. I slowed down, but chose not to take my normal exit. My angel truck got ahead of me, and was out of sight for about a mile. I caught up, and found that comfort of his tail lights once again for my last few miles. My fear of missing my exit was an impending doom as my guide drove us closer to it. That car I saw that hit the wall of drift loomed large in my mind!

When you are driving in blizzard conditions, time and space are messed up. I thought for a second that I had actually missed my exit. Dread filled me. Just as my mind was coming to grips with the possibility that I would be stuck all night driving this highway, I saw my guiding angel's blinker come on--for MY exit! I exhaled heavily while sending up yet another prayer of thanks. I watched him maneuver the off-ramp, paying careful attention to how much snow was kicking up behind him. It was plowed and passable. We both made a right turn, me quite a ways behind him due to my trepidation of the exit ramp.

Town roads of my little community were fine. I breathed almost a full inhale for the first time in over an hour. The man who miraculously got me close enough to walk home took a left two blocks from my own home. I watched him try to get through the unplowed side street as I continued straight and said a tearful prayer of thanks for his stellar driving abilities to get us to where we were.

There's a whole 'nother story about actually getting into my house, but that's for another time. I slept in my own bed the night the worst blizzard in decades hit the Midwest, after driving in the worst portion of it. I thought about putting an ad on craigslist to thank this angel. I have tried to think of a fitting thank you gift, and trying to drive down that street to find this Godsent truck that kept me so safe in the worst conditions I have faced as a driver. My mouth actually got dry during the drive. The kind of dry you get when you are scared and nervous. And more than once, there were tears of gratitude for my buddy ahead of me. If we never meet, I shall never forget him.

Thank God for keeping His eye on all of us. Thank God for this man who was out in a blizzard that nobody should have been out in, at the same time that I was. Thank God this man lives where I live.

Kind sir with the amazing driving ability? Thank you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you. You are my hero.