Service with a Song

 The sunlight streamed in through the neighborhood coffeeshop window and warmed my back as I sat a bit awkwardly on the hard and too-tall bench seat. I endeavored to gracefully hunch over the too-short cafe table in front of me -- a comical scene, I'm sure -- as I sipped my chai tea latte and munched on a chocolate sea salt scone. The man sitting next to me had just departed, introducing himself as he waved goodbye. We'd had an interesting exchange about mining in the Midwest, black lung, solar power, dead trees on city property, and the inept and corrupt state of our city's board of alder-people. This is why I love local coffeehouses: they are places where people connect.

Bad, Bad Leroy Brown came on the radio and the man across the aisle from me sang along to the first few bars before settling into a hum. An old memory came to life in my mind. 

It was pushing 4:00am and I was with some friends at Courtesy Diner. The service was predictably slow and surly, but the food was the perfect stomach putty for a bunch of scruffy scowly twentysomethings sweaty from rocking out at whatever local show we'd just stumbled out of. The diner guaranteed interesting characters around the clock, but the 2:00-4:00am crowd was probably one of the liveliest and concerning groups. Made up of truckers and bikers, drunk couples who'd just left the dance club, clutches of punks, and a very animated group of "bros", the Courtesy Diner clientele was primed for hijinks. There was always a line at the jukebox and that night was no different. A melange of classic rock, top of the pops, and the occasional hip hop jam pumped through the speakers. Slumped in our booth and too tired to make any decent conversation, my friends and I stared hollow-eyed at the cups of ice water in front of us as we fiddled with the straw wrappers and patiently waited for sustenance. And then the song switched, the first few notes of guitar meedled out and what started as a low but excited murmur of ohs and yeahs burst forth as a collective cry of anticipation when, suddenly, a dude jumped up to standing on the bench in his booth and air drummed the distinctive double snare hit along to the kick/hi-hat rhythm of AC/DC's "You Shook Me All Night Long". One by two, customers began to tap their feet, nod their heads along, sway in their seats, and dance in the single aisle behind the bar stools as Brian Johnson sang about "the best damn woman that I ever seen". By the time "the walls start shaking and the earth was quaking" the entire diner was ready to burst into song and let loose "You shook me all night long!" in what I can only liken to being witness to a 1980s John Hughes film come to life in South City, St. Louis, Missouri. The waitress rounded the corner of the counter with four plates of steaming pancakes stacked up her arm, wielding syrup with the other, swaying her hips and stepping to the beat as she sang her heart out "walking double time on the seduction line, she's one of a kind". Service with a song.

As I walked along the sidewalk admiring the cerulean skies I remembered something Sandra Cisneros once wrote, "You can never have too much sky." Usually March 2nd is a cold and dreary day, frequently overcast and often sleeting; but not today! Today it was 80 degrees and sunny, blue skies everywhere. Happy birthday to me. Like that odd night at Courtesy Diner, this was a special gift from the Universe; not for me in particular, but I was certainly happy to enjoy it!