Halloween Came Early To The Galley

This is a fictionalized version of something that really happened on the morning of 28 October, recently passed.

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I was finishing my breakfast: one of The Galley’s great omelets, cheddar, mushroom and bacon (maybe a little heavy on cheddar, but great) and the hash browns were best of breed, when I heard behind me a voice.

It was of a baritone timbre with a certain amount of self confident well modulated volume – maybe like Robert Preston in The Music Man; it went on and on and on about nothing of any consequence but with everything of sincerely held vehemence.

As he passed my field of vision I had the impression that he WAS the huckster in The Music Man.

As he got to a table – with an apparently loyal male companion (“Igor, I thought”) – the monologue continued at volume but switched content: “Oh no need to help us right away; we are happy to wait for your convenience and … maybe some coffee though”.

Since the place was empty except for me and the young lady who was the server of record that morning, I assumed that the young lady was the target for this passive aggressive thrust.

The server, I should mention, was in the far corner of the dining room eating her breakfast; I had opted to wait for my check until she had finished; the huckster didn’t care.

And I guess that that is as it ought to be; I don’t really know.

Any way, the scene soon changed to one where the server was standing at attention at the table’s corner and the well modulated baritone launched into what I quickly realized was going to be a room dominating monologue of the never ending sort.

“So you’re new to the island?”

“No, I just left a while back; but I came back recently.”

“I figured you must be new; otherwise I would have known you.”

Respectful silence, then “one or two checks?”

“Just one I’m paying; Igor here works for me.”

“Great, that’s easy.”

“And you won’t forget, will you? Because if you forget and give us two checks I’ll have to turn you over my knee and spank you.”

Except for what I took for a swift inhalation the server remained silent.

“I guess we can’t do that anymore – turning young women over your knee – all that politically correct stuff, I guess.”

Silence.

“Ol’ Trump has it about right.”

“Well that explains everything; I couldn’t figure out the Hillary button.”

“Oh that; the rest was covered up.”

“Oh.”

“I used to be a teacher and …”

I had finished the omelet and needed to pay and leave; I was supposed to pick up my wife about then, and I could see that the monologue had no end.

So I picked up the check and went over to the pay station by the door thinking that the server would see me and break free from Mr. make America great.

But she was apparently in a catatonic state; she just stood there and let the “blah, blah, blah” wash over her and into outer space.

Finally I launched myself in the direction of this debacle saying “hey guys, I am really sorry to interrupt your important trump discussion but I have to pick up my wife and I need to pay…”

When we got to the pay station I said “shall we kill him?”

She just smiled.