Myra's Lunch
I’m stretched out in the back seat of the car idly playing with a Rubik’s Cube while Myra drives around looking for a non-chain restaurant where we can have lunch. So far we’ve passed over twenty different fast food joints and chain restaurants with nary a mom’n’pop in sight. I think it would be interesting to sit at the bar at Ruby Tuesdays or Applebees and meet the people who spend their lunch hours there, but Myra is sticking to her guns. It’s not that I don’t share her idealism, but I’m also getting unbearably hungry. I’m starting to think we’d have better luck looking for a giant panda or white Bengal tiger than for a local food source.
As we drive through the town, I can’t help but notice that it’s full of interesting, complex, beautiful people: people with fantastic stories and adventures, people who’ve loved and lost and loved again, people who’ve looked up at the stars and wondered what it’s all about. And here I am with Myra Madison, just driving around and killing time before the apocalypse comes.
I try to shake it off. I don’t want to start thinking that maybe I made a mistake when I agreed to go on this road trip with Myra. Just shake it off, man. Solve the red face of the Rubik’s Cube and try to ignore the empty rumble in your stomach. Shake it off. Stop staring at those stars and get back to your cubicle. Drink beer and watch TV and get fat and stupid. Just ignore that feeling that there’s something more, something bigger that we’re missing out on. Be a zombie. Start sleepwalking. Stop dreaming. Shake it off.
Maybe right now, back home, the girl of my dreams is sitting in my favorite coffee shop, at the table next to my favorite table, looking for someone to talk to. Or maybe she’s sitting at the bar at that last Ruby Tuesdays. Maybe if I were back home I’d meet her on the street, looking for her lost dog, and I would help her find him. But here I am with Myra Madison, the great breaker of hearts, driving around and looking for a good place to eat before the apocalypse comes.
Okay, maybe it was a mistake, but then again I’m not sure I even believe in mistakes. If I really made a mistake and went to the wrong college, does that mean all of the relationships I forged at that college were mistakes, too? If I went to the “right” college, I would never have even met Myra. I would never have rescued my two beautiful pet cats from the dumpster by the park. I would never have been exposed to the people and ideas and opportunities I was exposed to there. I would be a completely different person right now, and I happen to be a fan of the person I’ve become. Maybe the girl of my dreams is waiting for me at the end of this trip. Actually, I’m sure she is. I mean, just look at all these interesting, complex, beautiful people in this one little town alone.
Myra finally finds a tired looking greasy spoon diner and pulls in. My stomach jumps and shouts Hallelujah, and the rest of my body follows suit. As we walk towards the door, I notice a picture of a polar bear on the wall inside. Fitting, I think. You endangered species should stick together.
As we drive through the town, I can’t help but notice that it’s full of interesting, complex, beautiful people: people with fantastic stories and adventures, people who’ve loved and lost and loved again, people who’ve looked up at the stars and wondered what it’s all about. And here I am with Myra Madison, just driving around and killing time before the apocalypse comes.
I try to shake it off. I don’t want to start thinking that maybe I made a mistake when I agreed to go on this road trip with Myra. Just shake it off, man. Solve the red face of the Rubik’s Cube and try to ignore the empty rumble in your stomach. Shake it off. Stop staring at those stars and get back to your cubicle. Drink beer and watch TV and get fat and stupid. Just ignore that feeling that there’s something more, something bigger that we’re missing out on. Be a zombie. Start sleepwalking. Stop dreaming. Shake it off.
Maybe right now, back home, the girl of my dreams is sitting in my favorite coffee shop, at the table next to my favorite table, looking for someone to talk to. Or maybe she’s sitting at the bar at that last Ruby Tuesdays. Maybe if I were back home I’d meet her on the street, looking for her lost dog, and I would help her find him. But here I am with Myra Madison, the great breaker of hearts, driving around and looking for a good place to eat before the apocalypse comes.
Okay, maybe it was a mistake, but then again I’m not sure I even believe in mistakes. If I really made a mistake and went to the wrong college, does that mean all of the relationships I forged at that college were mistakes, too? If I went to the “right” college, I would never have even met Myra. I would never have rescued my two beautiful pet cats from the dumpster by the park. I would never have been exposed to the people and ideas and opportunities I was exposed to there. I would be a completely different person right now, and I happen to be a fan of the person I’ve become. Maybe the girl of my dreams is waiting for me at the end of this trip. Actually, I’m sure she is. I mean, just look at all these interesting, complex, beautiful people in this one little town alone.
Myra finally finds a tired looking greasy spoon diner and pulls in. My stomach jumps and shouts Hallelujah, and the rest of my body follows suit. As we walk towards the door, I notice a picture of a polar bear on the wall inside. Fitting, I think. You endangered species should stick together.