Week 2 - San Francisco

            It feels later than it is. I glance down at my blue plastic watch and squint at the numbers. Unfortunately, they only read 11:39PM. Great. I still have another 6 and a half hours stuck in this shitty diner. I glance around at the few customers holed up in the tacky, maroon-upholstered booths. One man—older, with gradually graying hair—slumps over a half-eaten chicken club, barely awake. Or alive, for that matter. Another booth houses a couple. The woman, a blonde, is quite striking but her clothes are tattered and she looks sleep deprived. The two sit nursing diet cokes and both pick at a piece of soggy apple pie. Other than that, the diner is devoid of customers. Another big night for tips! Or not. 

            It’s 2AM and I’m standing at the register thumbing through the money we’ve made that day when I hear the bell on the door chime as a stranger walks in. It’s a man. Alone. I give him a quick up and down before he sees me and note that he’s not bad looking. In fact, if you bought him some new clothes and he took a proper shower I’d bet he’d be downright handsome. In his right hand, he held a worn weekender bag that in my opinion looked as if it had seen one too many weekends. In the other hand, he held a hat that looked to be in surprisingly good condition given the state of his other possessions.

            He walked towards one of the empty booths—far away from the now one other patron in the diner—and took a seat. As he sunk into the horribly uncomfortable cushion, I couldn’t help but notice that he seemed to deflate, as if sitting down had taken the last of energy.

            Suddenly feeling attentive, I poured him a glass of water and, on instinct, reached up to straighten my ponytail. I walked toward the man, glass of water and menu in hand. He seemed startled by my approach and immediately straightened. When I arrived at the table, his piercing blue eyes arrested me and I caught my breath for a moment before addressing him.

            “Good evening, sir.”

            “Evening, ma’m.” His voice was raspy and it sounded like he hadn’t slept in days.

            “Anything special I can get for you or would you like to take a look at the menu.”

            “Just a cheeseburger. And some fries, please. And a diet coke.”

            “You got it.”

            As I walked away, I couldn’t help but look back at the man, who had slumped down once again—this time further—into the booth.

            The food was ready fast. Mikey, our short order cook, took no time in prepping meals. He was always eager to get back outside for his next smoke break.

            When I brought the food back to the man, his eyes seemed to brighten and he looked at me with renewed vigor.

            “Why dontcha sit down for a sec? I’m awfully lonely and it’d be nice to have some company.”

            I hesitated and looked around the restaurant. Not a soul was in sight, and even Mikey had disappeared from the kitchen. I smoothed my skirt and settled into the booth opposite him.

            “So,” he picked up French fry and ate it casually, “what’s your story?”

            I was caught off guard by his question and stumbled over my words. “I’m just trying to make ends meet…I was hoping to put myself through nursing school eventually.”

            “You from around here?” He stared me down, but not in an unfriendly way.

            “Yes. San Francisco born and bred, actually.”

            “Mhmmm. Ever been anywhere else?”

            “I went to Los Angeles once.” I remembered our family trip quite fondly.

            “What about you? Have you been anywhere else besides San Francisco?” He smiled at me in a rather mischievous manner.

            “I’ve been all over the States. I’ve been to the South, Midwest, Rockies, the Southwest. You name it.”

            It was hard for me to tell if he was lying or not. How could this man, who had shown up in a ragged coat, have traveled across the country?

            “But….why? How do you do it?” It was hard for me to imagine why anyone would want to go to the Southwest, let alone the Midwest. Didn’t he have a job? A family? A wife? How did he make money? All these thoughts swirled around my brain as I sat there, looking at him. The novelty.

            “I get by….it’s not too bad. I have friends here and there. Friends who help me out. And people aren’t that bad. I get picked up hitchhiking a fair amount.”

            He had finished his meal by now, and wiped his hands on the napkin. Placing his hat atop his head he stood up and winked at me.

            “See you soon, darling.”

            It was only after he had walked out the door that I realized he had never paid.