As I headed out to eat, I glanced in the window of the main house.
It looked as cold in there as Buffalo in January.
Eric sat at the kitchen table, reading the paper, while Andrew brought him some bran flakes. He continued to read the paper as ate, never saying a word.
Drew sat down at the other end of the table and dunked toast into his cup of English breakfast tea. Silence.
I looked at them and imagined them in five years.
They'd be sitting at the ends of a long table so they wouldn't have to talk to each other, a huge center piece of flowers would between them so they wouldn't have to see each other, and several lovers each would be waiting in their bedrooms so they wouldn't have to touch each other.
How nuclear a family can you get?
I sat at the counter of the diner.
It was one of those places built in the 50's.
Very Buck Rodgers. Formica booths with green vinyl seats, chrome stools at the space age counter, and the spinning dessert rack with its fresh key lime pie and chocolate cake.
A futuristic eatery for those of you on your way home to suburbia.
I bet this place jumped then. Families heading to the Drive-in. Teeny-boppers going to the sock hop. Everyone with an eye peeled to the sky for Sputnik and ever-ready to 'duck and cover' at the first signs of a mushroom cloud.
Now it's just me, a half dozen regulars, what looks like two of the original waitresses, and a beer selection prominently 
displayed in a refrigerated case above me. I imagined the cold beer in my mouth until I quickly forced myself to turn away. My eyes landed on the waitress station in front of me and several little multi-colored boxes of cereal. The ones that said, 'makes its own bowl.' One side perforated so you could use your spoon to rip them open and pour the milk inside.
You sat there, Saturday morning watching cartoons with your box/bowl and a glass of beer the astronauts drank.
No, Tang! Orange flavored juice substitute Tang-- not beer.
Only trouble was, the box got soggy faster than the corn flakes did and you ended up with a big wet stain that looked like you peed in your pants.
So much for the wonders of modern science.
After the waitress took my order, I moved down to a seat at the end of the counter where I no longer saw the beer display. Instead, I saw a busboy station filled with dirty dishes. Some people would say it looked ugly, but I didn't care.
It looked just fine to me.
When I got back from breakfast, Greg was still in the shower.
