JIMMY LINGUINI

 

It was hokey music, coming from a dive bar in San Leandro…and, if you know San Leandro, you know.

If you do no not live in S.L., imagine a lonely bar in hell, with, maybe, six crazy-ass customers brooding over too many drinks at too early an hour with time and crime on their hands and minds. The Potential Horror…. What have you stumbled upon? Whatever it was, I found I fit in.

I was supposed to meet some guy…some Johnny Luigi…Linguini…I dunno, but he was supposed to approach me. I waited, and I waited, and I had a few. You can’t go into a bar and order coffee. Not this bar. So, I drank, and waited, and the more bored I got the drunker I became. It should be noted, however, that I am an excellent drunk…barely detectable, under most circumstances, and this was one of those.

Johnny…Jimmie…whatever, he didn’t show and I had nowhere to go. I surmised that food would do me some good, so I paid my tab and ambled (…or stumbled…it’s a matter of perspective) …over to the Mexican place across the street. Dinner hour was almost over so the place was nearly empty, which is just fine in my book. Waitresses, trying to “total out”, they want your order; cooks ready to shut down, they want you gone. So, I got me a nice fat burrito, and I got it pronto. One might question the meat at this late hour – I mean, how long did it sit in the kitchen? – but I don’t care. Quick and efficient is okay by me. I ate quietly, and chewed my food carefully, as the crew shut down, turned up the lights, and stacked the chairs…all but mine. When I was done, my plates disappeared pronto, and the check was on the table. I asked for a coffee, and laid down a twenty. I sipped quietly while the crew finished up. We would walk out together. I bade them all a goodnight, but they were all too busy being gone to notice. The street emptied quick, and then it was…empty.

The flicker of the small neon window sign was the only thing animated, it's red cast called to me. A nightcap could do no harm, and, actually, it was still early.

V