“Take a seat over there,” said the proprietor (a young man anywhere from 30 to 50 - everyone looks young when you’re over 70). “I’ll get to you in about 10 minutes if that’s okay.” We sat in the middle and on the side wall, each of us having a different view, me north, husband south. Folks around us were chatting away, some eating, some finished, some waiting for their meal. We filled our wait time with people watching.
The place was humming and the waiter/cook/owner was all on his own. I had a good view of the kitchen and he was practically flying! An elderly woman began wandering around, gathering a plate here, a spoon there. I was quite sure she was the “Mom”, or the owner, helping her son out, but it turned out she was a helpful customer who rightly figured Mr. RoadSide could use some assistance (no pun intended), though she accomplished very little. Across the way sat a slender, fitter version of Colonel Sanders. Ever since we sat down I’d been watching this fellow carry on lively conversation accented with expansive gestures. He must have been telling a good story!
Mr. RoadSide began to bring out meals. “Here you go, Maggie. Fred, that’s right isn’t it? Fries with gravy on the side? Flo, for you, sorry for the wait!” Back and fourth he went, cooking, serving, taking our order, chatting with a fencing crew seated near the entry (they looked like a biker gang - bald heads, matching jackets with a raptor on the back, a gal with blue hair).
The elderly self appointed bus-girl finished her rounds then carried a carton containing a burger and fries to her husband out in their car, explaining as she passed by us that she had to take his food out because he was unable to come in. On her return she was shivering and hugging her sweater close. “God awful windy and cold out there,” she said. I agreed.
The large group behind me got up to leave, all carrying on about their plans for the remainder of the day, saying they’d be back for breakfast. “I’m feeling a bit scattered today,” the cook told them. “Most of the time I have no problem but it’s been hard to concentrate the last few days. A friend of mine got Covid and he also has COPD so I’ve been really worried, but he’s doing okay now. I hope you enjoyed your meals?” Assurances were passed around, bills paid, things got quieter.
The man-of-all-tasks brought our order then grabbed an arm full of empty plates and bussed them to the back. We dug into our senior menu specials and he stopped by our table. “How’s your meals, I hope the wait wasn’t too long,” he said. “I usually have just a few couples in here and it’s not hard to manage, but that big group showed up just before you and I had to get their order out.”
We were the last customers to leave and the restaurant closed. Apparently it is only open for breakfast and lunch. Butterscotch pudding was a nice topper to our hearty and much enjoyed meal. I headed for the rest room and Mr. RoadSide was wandering around the now empty restaurant with a cell phone recording what needed to be done and how the day had gone. He looked at me and said, “The meals are only the beginning, now it’s all the cleaning and preparation for tomorrow. Guess you gotta make a dollar though! It was a good day today.”
We left the RoadSide Cafe feeling relaxed with a decent meal in our bellies. It was like we had just had dinner with a big happy family, well worth our decision to pass on a fast food outlet.
https://www.facebook.com/Northof543/,
abcentre54
May 4, 2022
