(Taking a brief hiatus from our 12-step series for a couple Catches from my spring training weekend in Phoenix, Arizona.)
So it’s the first morning of my spring training weekend and I am waiting for what I think is the best pancake in Phoenix. It’s at a place I found last year called First Watch. I think it’s a really bad name because I can never remember it, but no one else seems to have that problem since there are now eleven of these in town and every one is going to have a half hour wait about now. I’m waiting for them to text me on my cell phone when my table is ready, which is a little worrisome since I have 2% power on my phone right now. Nobody call me, please.
I don’t mind the wait since they have the coffee out and I found a seat outside at the restaurant next door that is currently closed. So since I have my coffee and my computer going, they can take as long as they want to text me.
Whoops. I missed my text. Luckily I’m close enough to hear my name. So they got me a seat at the community table. I forgot why I liked this place so much. I have my own pot of coffee and the coffee’s great. The lady across from me comes here every Saturday. She loves the avocado toast.
I’m boring, but I got the plain pancake (yes, just one. It’s, as the menu says, “humongous.”), eggs over easy and chicken apple sausage patty. I must say, the best thing was the eggs. Must have been cage free, grain fed, organic, jogging hens, but they were special. The pancake was so-so, but RJ’s Cafe in Dana Point still beat it. I’ll have to come back tomorrow for the blueberry, because that’s the one I remember from last year.
The community table is fun, like being dragged into humanity. I almost held out for my own table, but I figured God didn’t want me isolated this morning. I dip into three or four conversations. Nothing existential, but fun, none the less. The high school girl across from me has a new App about movie characters, and I am surprised she doesn’t know who Michael Keaton is. She does know Jack Nicholson, but her mother is way off on his age. She thinks he is in his sixties (remember when 60 was the watershed year?). He’s 80.
Eighty is now the new “old” for me. Certainly can’t be 70, because I’m 70. When I’m 80, I’m sure 90 will be the new “old.” I feel sorry for everyone under 65 right now. Baby Boomers are going to be intolerable in old age (I’m sure we already are). We will simply never be old. And if we ever get to where we need a walker, pity on the person who has to be around us. Please don’t feel responsible. What do you expect from a generation that still refuses to grow up?
Wow. I outlasted them all. I’m now the only one at the community table. Was it something I said? Actually it’s starting to thin out a little. As long as I still have coffee in my pot and some battery powering my computer, I’m happy. Can’t beat this.
Know what? I’ve been here so long now that I think I’ll order up that blueberry pancake right now. It will be just right for finishing out my pot of coffee. I may need a triple bypass after this weekend, but it will be worth it. They probably won’t have pancakes in heaven. They’ll have something better, but I’ll still want pancakes.