Lunch

From their voices, it sounded like both women were in their late forties or early fifties.  One of the voices was unusual in that though it was not particularly loud – it carried a bit like a foghorn piercing the other thick vocal tones of the restaurant in a way that was impossible to ignore.  The second voice of the duo was much more subtle.  I didn’t intend to listen – but it was one of those rare times I didn’t have a newspaper and I was looking for a distraction from simply staring at the table.   And there was something about a hot dog being discussed.  I thought about stealing a look – but I didn’t want to risk the reduction in volume that-that sort of thing would likely bring with it.  “The guy said it was a genuine New York hot dog, and there were a lot of condiments in his cart” the foghorn bleated! 

Eugene is the kind of town where I’m sure there has been a huge amount of money expended by its citizenry on ‘getting clear,’ or ‘having a breakthrough’ or something of that sort.  In this town organic Vegetables are sought out without consideration to cost and consumed like religious wafers as if every day is a high Catholic holy day and every meal is going to be shared with the Pope.  The conversation I was listening to had that sort of earnestness!

“He said the dog was fine grained and could stand on its own – and you should look at the condiments as an enthusiastic rooting section rather than a soppy rude hotdog extender.”  Her tone was serious.  She had obviously heard commanding language before, and could not contain her excitement in sharing details with her restaurant partner.  “If you choose simply” – she continued her recital of the hot dog vendor’s guidance, “and really think about your condiments in this way it will enrich your hot dog lunch experience – I guarantee you will not be disappointed.” 

I briefly thought about the numerous offerings of workshops, classes, therapy, and colon-cleansings.  Some of these offered a rice-type meal for a small price, or a fasting experience for a higher price (I always found the price-thing with enlightenment somewhat confusing).  The woman with the resonant voice broke through; “I thought about how I pile things on to myself without regard to my own health or what my core needs are,” she said, apparently referring to the events in her life as condiments – or something to that effect.  “I decided to try to really focus on what I wanted on that hot dog – and to keep it limited to only that”! 

My thoughts went to the last time I had purchased a hot dog outside of the home improvement center and had asked for everything they could fit into the crevasse between the meat and the bun.  I thought about how I had moved down the paint isle while pulling down the paper to expose the next sloppy bite and had virtually swam down the plumbing isle awash with hotdog satisfied contentment minutes later as I finished it off.  

As I left my table I glanced quickly trying to find the source of the voices.  One of the women was leaning in toward the other and I was sure I saw a tear in her eye.  “It has changed my life” she added over what looked like remnants of what  perhaps had been a romaine and walnut salad.

Outside everything seemed normal enough – I headed quickly toward my truck and was looking forward to turning on some country western music for my ride back to work. 

I found myself craving it a little more than I usually do.