Coffeehouse Chronicles ...and He's Not Old, He's My Brother

Happy Monday! Kids are out. Three-day weekend. County holiday. Some of you are racking up another “F” day. 

IYKYK.

Most importantly, today is the day after da Big Homie’s birthday. Yup, McCroc made it another trip around the sun. And I don’t care what you say, he looks doggone good for a 77-year old!

Mrs. Scrubbles always likes to make a big thing about his day, and I’m down. I say, Croc-palooza! We started off the day having breakfast at a spot where just about everyone in Temecula goes. We drove 15 minutes to wait 55 more to sit. A popular place and good chow, so McCroc was pleased. His belly was full. 

That’s a happy McCroc. 

Then came the check. The Professor made a show of looking for his wallet. He checked his breast pockets. Nothing. He didn’t have breast pockets, he was wearing a t-shirt. 

“Really?” I said, rolling my eyes. This happened at the end of every meal with the Professor. The check comes and he gets crocodile arms. Look, they were long enough a few minutes earlier when he found his plate and that chicken fried breakfast he inhaled like a shop vac.

“No really, I can’t find my wallet.” 

“Hey, Professor. Look, haven't you heard the fable about the little guy who cried ‘woIf’?” I asked him suspiciously.

“This time it’s for real.” said Yoko, scoffing at him as she produced her AMEX black, “we’ve been searching for it all morning.”

A couple of things. First: I was surprised that Yoko had even called for breakfast with us, because …well you know, she is always trying to break up the band; and two: although she prefers solitude to being with us, she’s always truthful, so if she said the wallet was MIA. I believed it.

Okay, so we paid the check and headed back to the park where we went back to the rigs and slept off the tryptophan stupor that our meal had induced. Plus we had to get ready to eat again in ninety minutes, because, again as I stated at the beginning it was McCroc’s birthday and he was gonna be hungry. 

—

A little later in the day, we’re headed to a local winery so that we can watch McCroc eat. Again. 

As we drove past the beautiful; ranches and vineyards, I looked back at Mrs. Scrubbles and asked how she’d located the eatery we were headed to.

“Oh. Panda suggested it.”

“WHAT?!?! Oh my lawd!” Of course my mind rewound instantly back two weeks to my Salisbury “ribeye” and the carrot cake that was drier than the sand at the beach. “When will we learn?”

Five minutes later, at the top of the stairs, Panda greets us with a grin and a thumbs up. “Everybody ready? You’re in for a treat!!” 

I faked a smile and returned his thumbs up signal to him. “Yay.” I thought with as much enthusiasm as I could muster. I looked around curiously. “Hey, where are Moe and Winnie?” 

It turns out they weren’t feeling well. They’d suffered from a bout of food poisoning. Again. Third time this week and each time it had been after they had tried a new place Panda was excited to take them out to. 

“Oh?” I said, rolling my eyes and looking toward the HB pleadingly. Of course, she didn’t even notice my cry for help because she and Sebenteen (Teddi From the Block) were already walking inside holding hands and giggling like schoolgirls who hadn’t seen each other since summer break had started three months prior.

Everyone ordered and ate, I played it safe and had only toast And then back to the RVs

We made it back to the RVs where we found the Professor sitting on the stoop of his rig, looking a lot like a kid whose ice cream had fallen out of the cone when he’d attempted the first lick.

“Still no wallet?” Asked McCroc. “You missed vittles.” Then he looked at me, “Maybe we should check his car for him. 

“Oh boy!” I thought, “a car search!” I ran to get my flashlight. McCroc and I went through his ride like we were searching a car in the ‘One-ways’ at a hundred and eleventh and New Hampshire. Nothing. Where the heck could it be? We went into his RV and checked everywhere in there also. 

Nothing.

Could it be at Walmart? The store he’d visited some 36 hours ago? That was the last place he remembered seeing it. No way. Okay, last resort. The Professor and McCroc retraced their steps all the way back to Walmart and walked up to the blue-vested, 19-year old night manager, Matthew. 

“How can I help you?” he slurred and slurped through his newly acquired braces.

The Professor described his dilemma and his wallet to the youngster. Matt held up a finger and walked to the back office to check lost and found. Seven minutes later, McCroc and the Professor were walking back to the Rollerskate, wallet and ALL of its contents returned. 

Human nature. 

Remind me to tell you about how something very similar happened to the Professor last year when we were all in Virginia. I still gotta tell you about the Monterey Jazz Fest rental chair calamity. It happened more than once, within a twenty minute span, bee tee dubs.

Drink ‘em if you got ‘em!

#coffeehousechronicles