Saturday was rough. I mentioned as much. Sunday was brighter in my head, but not outside. Today, I feel refreshed and ready to embrace. Partially because Missy is coming to visit me on Friday, partially because I went to yoga three times last week, and partially because being so damn depressed all the time really sucks. And I’m getting wrinkles. That said, I woke up with a positive outlook. Though, apparently it’s still under construction.
I was exiting the Muni this morning, waiting for my phone to pick up a signal so I could return Missy’s call from earlier, when I noticed the crepe place directly to my left. I have always wondered about this crepe place and usually I don’t stop because usually I don’t carry any cash. Next to the four thousand other things about myself I find entirely too irritating, I never seem to carry cash. I visit the Money Access Center several times a week, but still I never seem to have any money. So I never stop to check out the crepe situation. I always fear crepe and credit card rejection.
Today, I have money. So as I stood there, waiting for my turn, staring down at my phone waiting for the ….searching to go away and my imaginary cell phone beam to find a home, the small very stylish, asian hottie standing behind the counter says to me, “What can I get you?” his voice featuring a tinge of irritation. I wanted the first one. It was called “The Monterey”.
I need to back up a minute. I know how to say that word, there are many words I know HOW to say, however, for some reason, and I’ll never be sure why, I get stage fright when reading aloud. I say the word in my head “M-O-N-T-E-R-R-A-Y. Monterey.” And all is well. But when my face goes to expel such a word, it tends to screw it up. And this happens to me all the time. It’s like my brain, my lips and their captive tongue don’t really get along, they fight for what’s correct usually losing to what’s wrong. For example, the other day, while in the video story my head says, “Hey! Toby.” And then my lips, for reasons still unknown to me, say, “Hey! Hey, Tony!”
That’s my husband I’m referring to here, not some half-sandwich, half-omelette sort of thing. I don’t even really know any Tony’s.
“Hello? What can I get you? Do you know what you’d like?” He asks again.
“Yes, I’ll have the Mont-er-eeee. Please.” I knew I messed up. I knew it right away. But it’s Monday, and I’m ready to kick California, take a hair dryer to San Francisco’s fog, and I’m lonely.
He barks back, loudly, his head tilted like one of those prissy poodles with bows, “It’s the M-O-N-T-E-R-A. AY. A. New to California, are we?” He head wobbles a little, eyes rolling around like marbles to the right and to the left. I wait a minute, refusing to make eye contact with the crepe guy, ready to cry. Thinking, “Just send me home, bitch.”
Finally, I say, “Sorry. Yes. Yes, I am.”
What I failed to mention thus far, because I’m not rude (usually), is that he had a piece of egg dangling from his bottom lip. And normally I would have waited for someone else working the crepe stand to tell him about the lamprey. But this time, I seized upon it like Cujo.
Still without making any eye contact, I say “You have a piece of food hanging from your lip.”
He wipes the egg away and turns his head in a huff. I take my change from him and tilt my head back towards the ground where it belongs. I can feel the burning stares from other crepe-buyers moving in around me like fog, making me feel more and more like an outsider buying crepes on a Monday morning. I take three steps to my right and wait for my Monday Monterey, secretly hoping for a swift push from behind and a New York City side of sarcasm.
I’m glad you told him about the egg. You should have also jumped across the counter and punched him in the ear, but that’s just me.
Nothing worse than stray poultry products.
The thing sort of sucked too. Totally not worth either of our humiliation. Damn Crepe Guy. Dame crepe.
He probably had egg on his face because he owned a beta tape player once.
GotJesus, I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again. You’re a god damn genius.
Was the crepe tasty? Would you order it again? Or will you go for the San Luis Obispo?
Just wanted to say hi, and that I hope your having a better day after the crepe incident. Everyone has their own opinions and sometimes you just have to hear them without taking them to heart. I met you last Friday night and would love to chat with you again. Send me an e-mail and we’ll talk. =)
I’m glad the crepe was bad, not glad for you but glad that the little weasel works behind the counter of a crappy creperie… and has egg on his face. HA!
Sounds like you ran into an unfortunate type in SF—the person who thinks nativity is like frequent-flyer points, with increased accumulation based on the hipness of his neighborhood or the number of times he’s been to Burning Man. He’s probably lived here two years, three tops. If you run into him or his ilk again this native heartily encourages you to tell him to blow it out his ass. You have as much right to live here as anyone else.
I just fell right out of my freakin’ chair laughin’. Don’t know why I found this so funny but I do know I wish I could’ve been there.
Mihow, I am so sorry to hear that you had to deal with this idiot crepe man….But I am glad to hear that you went to yoga a bunch…did you have the same teacher as we had on Monday? At least you have been getting some yoga in. I completed my second half of my root canal and thought I would be complete with visiting the Doctor for the day, only to return home to find that I would have to take Belly directly to the emergancy room! Somehow she broke out in hives all over her body…Poor girl. We have no idea what caused it….some vacation I am haveing! ps. how long is Missy staying?