Workaday Lunch Hour
Posted on June 8, 2007
Filed Under Uncategorized |
It’s an almost perfect 19-degrees, and the sun is blanketing the city in its warmth. I’m walking down 97th Street–on the south side. It’s not a major thoroughfare on this side of the river, for the most part, but the stretch near the office sees a steady stream of traffic during the work week. Couldn’t tell you about the weekend, though.
I forgot my lunch at home this morning. Three thick slices of salami, a slathering of mayo, thick slices of marble, drizzle of mustard, and a miniature alfalfa sprout forest stuck between two slices of whole wheat. A damn fine sandwich, I must say, but it’s half-an-hour away right now.
I take the short hike up to Harvey’s. An Angus burger with cheese should do the trick. My watch must be fast, because it says noon, but none of the lunch hour walkers are out yet, and the line in the burger shack is smaller than expected. I’m in and out and back in the office in under twenty minutes, all told. On the way back, I see the walkers are out.
The three balding guys in their matching khakis and blue dress shirts. If it weren’t for the slight variations in blueness, I’d swear these guys were in uniform. Maybe the plainclothes division at the old police bunker on the corner are more uniform than I’d suspected.
The fire engines are being washed down at Station 15. Three uniformed firefighters with oversized sponges in hand. It’s a nice day to wash a vehicle. For these guys, it’s part of the job, so maybe they’d disagree.
I pass by a woman in fake fatigues. She’s going for the militant look, I guess. Probably fancies herself a revolutionary, with her baggy olive cargoes and tee. Studded bracelet and angry eyes. All she’s missing is Ché on her chest. I smile. She scowls. I manage to hold in the laughter until she’s out of earshot (I think).
A minute later I’m back at the office. I eat my burger and onion rings at my desk, and wait for the weekend to begin.
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