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- Written by: Rod Boyle
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Monday, he comes into the restaurant. Oversized ears, nose bristling with hair, and a surreal wrap-around smile that reminds me of the Mad Hatter. Older, 70's, and in an English accent asks for a cup of coffee. Crystal bright blue eyes.
He's a lunatic, deranged, you can tell, good natured enough, but his eyes, appearance, there's no one home, no one at all. He sits with a big grin on his face and asks about little pastries and cakes and I refer him to the bakery across the way.
He's jolly. He drinks his coffee, unblinking, livid blue eyes, a madman, his smile is perpetual, stuck on as if he's looking into the void, I'm amazed - to all superficial appearances, normal, but - no, he's barking mad. He tells me he's paid for his coffee, and I pooh-pooh it, "On the house" I tell him, it was an older pot, thank you for coming in and all that, and he leaves, for such an unremarkable visit he's made an impression...
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Today, mundane, Christopher reading the reviews. One complains the food was shit and the waiter was creepy. Chris describes the order and I know who he's talking about, my table, a bland narcissistic couple from the city, vacuous blonde, impotent overly groomed man - which city? Don't know. I can't be bothered to search their Instagram or "Only Fans' page. Guess Alberta. But BC has it's share as well.
Online anonymity gives every entitled asshole a place to vent their worthless opinions.
A man, 2 kids, makes a reservation, sits outside at a patio table, beautiful view, but he'd prefer to sit next to a wall so he and his kids can charge their cellphones. A shit table, less of a view, but - it has a plug. Camping with your kids in the 21st Century.
He complains to me that we "need a no-hillbillies policy". The table next to him is loud, drunk-ass BC kids on vacation. I agree, but it's our bread and butter, and I'm in the awkward position of choosing between my values and the owners needs. I explain to him - "They're our bread and butter.".
Tonight - after yesterday, relatively slow. A few late tables, a drunk fat toad of a blonde waiting for guests, can't look up from her phone to order her double Caesar. Her friends, clueless as to how to work a mask, clutching napkins over their faces, show up late. 10 minutes to close. They don't like their table, want to sit on the beach.
I tell them no, the beach is closed. We're closing in 10 minutes.
She doesn't like this, immediately goes in search of another opinion, finds the owners' son, gets the same answer. I watch it all. I haven't primed him. Here - here, if you were managing and competent, here is where you chuck them out. Assholes. Bitches. Drunk-ass whores. Know trouble when you see it and get rid of them. Not kindly. Fuck off. Fuck right off.
One last chance. Toady blonde, prompted for order before the kitchen closes. "But your website says you close at 10:00". It has never said that ever.
But they complain to him about me, I'm - wait for it - "Anthony Bourdain" - and that's enough, they repeat it again and again as if it's he's the Satan of the restaurant world. I can't take it, "just take the table" I tell him, I can't put up with this shit, haven't the patience for it.
It's time for the old "Hills have eyes", work with your gut, start cleaning up the planet of all the excess shit of humanity that it's created. Really. Humanity, we've been breeding assholes for too long, rewarding them, promoting them, to President even, (or Premier of Alberta) - time, time to just burn them all down. They're fooling no one. The liberal ideology - it allows everyone to be whatever they want to be, but the asshole ideology - "if you're not what we want or expect we're going to complain on our Instagram/Only Fans" is gaining too much ground. Time to end it. Not kindly.
I've had enough, and the lotto, fuck, it's gotta be won, I've appointed my Dukes and Earls and Counts all already, just let me fucking win goddamnit!!!!!
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Changes, you notice them most in the young and in the old.
The restaurant is great for this. People you recognize as old one season are suddenly much, much older the next. And children quickly become young adults, young ladies who'd come in for a fries to-go and never tip suddenly begin eating in and tipping 20%. The changes are dramatic.
In people our own age we seldom notice change. They age pretty much like us, and unless we haven't seen them for a few years will probably recognize them pretty much as they were. But change accelerates when you get older, one slip or fall and decrepitude pounces.
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I thought I'd blogged about her before, searching the blog, apparently not.
So I'll tell you about this person, famous local personage whom everyone knows and whom I met shortly after moving to the area. Maybe before I moved to the area, on one of my frequent trips, coming via the ferry to Nelson in my old Volvo 240 DL. Best car ever, although not so good for prospecting...
Anyways, a rainy May long weekend, coming from the Balfour terminal towards Nelson and what should I pass but a Circus Clown. Genuine. Bona Fide. Giant Clown suit, oversized clown shoes, clown make-up, tiny umbrella. There's no way I'm not picking her up. The only thing that could make this better would be a bloody hatchet in her free hand, but - you take what you can get and I've learned to compromise.
Pull over, she puffs over and tries to get in, once, bounces out, twice, bounces out, third time's a charm. Turns out the Clown suit is a tight fit.
Drive towards Nelson. We chat, she introduces herself, explains the clown suit. I didn't ask, didn't think it polite, you see a lot of way out outfits out here, but I'm just straight enough she thinks it necessary.
So she's a clown, off on her way to do some clowning.
Now, having lived here a few years I recognize her as a local personage, she's quit clowning and tried politics (a natural evolution I've come to recognize), still pass her once a week in town or on the highway.
Anyways, long story short - this isn't the clown I'm talking about.
No, this is about the Valley Shaman. Friend's told me about him before, I'm pretty sure I know who she means - I mean, how many Shaman can there be in the Valley, but - as it turns out - you'd be surprised. So the Shaman had been invited to her workplace to do a cleansing. Lots of Shaman stuff. Sage, smudging, dowsing, pegs thrown down in corners, rocks, chanting, drumming, more dowsing, minor pyrotechnics. Friend is impressed. How could you not be?
Anyways, friend is discussing Shaman with co-worker, who - as it turns out - knows him. Co-worker is not the person in the first story above.
- "Yeah, me and '....(shaman)', we graduated from Clown school together back in...."
And I'm thinking. You know what I'm thinking. How many clowns are there out here?
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So on one of the TV's at work the last few days they've been playing a marathon of Star Trek - TNG.
I was never really a fan, never owned a TV and so missed it when it first came out and was popular and had to endure it when other people had it on.
Now's my chance to catch up and see what all the fuss was about. Only the TV's in the restaurant, we don't play them with volume or Close Captioning, I'll just have to figure it out, and given that I'm forever to and fro (the nature of service) this isn't working so good for me.
Never mind, I can figure it out.
Watch it. I can see why I never got into it. The authority of Jean Luc Picard undermined by his ridiculous "strut of authority" - arms stationary at side as he walks about bridge, planets - wherever. WTF? It looks unnatural. Riker's "Devastating" good lucks and wholesome close ups, that dumb ass empath and the prodigal young Wesley Crusher. My God I dodged a bullet.
Still, not much going on in the afternoons and so I make a note of what's going on on screen and when I go for a cigarette ask Ken.
"Ken, There's a dead Picard lying on a table and a live Picard standing over him and Councilor Troy has just entered the room..."
- "That's episode ... where Picard has to time travel to save then Enterprise and then kill himself to avoid violating the time-space continuum..." Ken explains.
I'm in awe. I was lighthearted in my testing of his fandom but he's rising to the test. I try him again several times:
"Ken, a bunch of people are trying to talk to this crystal..."
- "That's the episode where they meet the Crystalline Entity and are introduced to Data's evil twin, Lars...."
"Ken, Wesley is getting in trouble for getting off the Holodeck wet..."
- "That's the "Encounter at Farpoint..."
He gets them all. I get increasingly vague in my descriptions, with things like:
"The Enterprise is circling a green planet"...
- "They used that footage for a number of episodes. Give me a minute..." and he come out, glances at the TV, the scene has changed and quickly summarizes the plot.
I get emotional:
"Ken, Ken, Picard has just died" or "Wharf is getting mad" and "How did that darned Wesley Crusher get to be so smart!!??" and it excites him to come out from the kitchen and see what the fuss is about, update me as to the episode and plot.
The man is a genius in all trivial things...