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Show RTVER cafe. I walked up to the front door and peered through the glass at all the warmth and light. Even out on the street I could smell the rich, warm aroma of southern cooking. The place was empty except for an old white waitress and a round, black cook who was laughing and smiling as she told a story to the waitress. She glanced over at the door, spotted yours truly peering in, and her wide, friendly face suddenly contorted in absolute terror. She did a sort of convulsive jig and then she screamed, loudly. For a moment I was too stunned to move. I didn't know what to do. Granted, my short, hairy, gnome-like figure had been known to scare children, but my looks had never yet brought an actual blood-curdling scream from an adult. My reflexes woke up and I pushed the door open and walked inside, whereupon both women broke into prolonged laughter. This left me at a loss for anything to say, and every time I opened my mouth to try and get something out both women burst into renewed hilarity. The beautiful old black woman thumped the counter and held her head in her hands and went from wild laughter to broken sobs, only to raise her head and look at me again, go crazy, and start laughing all over. Finally she pulled herself together, shook her head and said, "Oh, chile!" "Ummm, ladies, could I get some fried chicken here?" "Oh sure, honey, you can get some chicken here, but son you liked to scare me to death when I looked over at that window and saw you! I didn't know what to think!" "I like to die myself," said the waitress. "We don't see too much of anything that looks like you come round these parts." The cook disappeared into the kitchen but was soon back to join the waitress in being warm and friendly and motherly. They both got very concerned when I -158- |
