Oh... and patience. This is definitely a tale of patience.
I have a problem with patience, especially when food is involved. On a glorious Sunday afternoon where I am sure that the birds were chirping around my head, in a neighborhood that I have grown to love, at a restaurant that serves amazing carb filled heavenly sandwiches on sour dough* as fluffy as clouds, with my favorite DC dining companion... that is where this tangled tale begins.
I may have had on my rose colored glasses but I was starved... and so was my companion. Upon arriving we were pleasantly surprised when the outdoor table customers had paid and even vocalized that they were ready to leave. I mean, could the day get more perfect?
That is, until they would not MOVE. As we waited, patiently at first, we noticed their non-verbals. The woman looked angry, first at her date and then at us. The longer we stood there, the more she glared and the longer they sat. With each second we grew more annoyed, more impatient and more judgmental.
Twenty minutes later they were still sitting, fumbling with their straws and we were quite disturbed. Maybe if we go inside they will leave. NO. Maybe if we hover they will leave. NO.
The bartender tries to convince us to sit at the bar. NO. We were holding out if we had to physically remove them.
By this point, my assumption is that they are being spiteful. They are unhappy, mean people. That's it, I know it.
Finally, thirty minutes and counting they stand-up, we start to make our move and they linger... LINGER, I tell you---hugging, talking and organizing the big dog that escaped from under the table. With each gesture we grow more mad. These people were ruining our day. Our day, you know, with the sun and the birds and the rose colored glasses. Then, we see it... maybe it was the way that he glanced over his shoulder or the cold hug he gave her or the tear in her eye--- this gal was doing more than lingering onto the table, she was lingering onto a relationship that was clearly over. They were breaking up. Breaking up over pancakes, mind you.
After a caloric tuna melt my perspective changed. Maybe it was the heavenly bread or a carb endorsed state of euphoria but my sediment for Karly (this is what I named the what I first labeled hateful but now fragile, girl in the tale) had changed, I no longer felt so angry. I had misinterpreted their behavior. I made it personal as we often do. I forgot that we should not make assumptions. And mostly, I forgot to be patient. After all, I think if I were broken up over pancakes I might behave the same way. I am not sure if I would linger but I would definitely be angry. . . because---come on man, the least you could do is order a gal something on the sourdough. Geez!
*Heavenly sourdough, caloric sandwiches and people watching can be found at Stoney's Lounge
on P and 14. Remember, bring your appetite, patience and an open mind.