Breakfast Noise.

We barely had a need to speak to each other. Such was the noise and entertainment levels around us.

 

I suggested to my wife, that we brave the icy air and walk ten minutes to one of my favourite breakfast eateries in Chicago. The gush of warm air as we entered was a pleasant welcome from the frigid gale blowing outside. This pancake house is famous in the city and the tables are packed quite closely together. You have no option but to hear your neighbour's conversations.

We had just taken our first sips of coffee when we overheard the fraught negotiations over photographs on our left. The photographer, a man in his fifties, was trying to sell professionally taken pictures of the young man opposite him. They were of the young student's graduation, and he was deciding on which one to send home to his parents. This student like any other around the world – he was high on confidence but low on funds.

Then the noise volume of the restaurant suddenly became amplified.


On our right sat two young ladies with a two year old boy. They swapped stories and drank fruit juices. The little boy was like any other two year old – rambunctious and full of chat. Except the more he shouted, the less attention he received. The two ladies were only there to talk to each other – minding the child seemed to be a little inconvenient for them.

We thought that one of these ladies must be the mother of the child. But neither showed anything remotely like love, for the young boy. Then it hit us – they were Au pairs. That explained the reason why the main topic of conversation between them - was about young men!

The surround sound was complete with two other women sitting behind us. The dynamic was similar yet different here. It was of an elderly lady and her impatient daughter. The old lady was hard of hearing and the daughter revelled in pointing out her mother’s deficiencies. The daughter patronised her at every opportunity and genuinely seemed to get her kicks from putting her down.

Every diner moved their steely gaze of ‘shut up I’m trying to eat my breakfast in peace here’ from the two year old, to the snotty daughter. I could see faces around me look at the old lady with pity in their eyes. They needed not have worried. There was venom in her tongue and she was holding it back in reserve. She knew how to deal with the bully in front of her.

As our food arrived, the bitching between mother and daughter continued. The elderly lady, despite her age, had a very good appetite. She ordered eggs, bacon, home fries and toast. The daughter protested at her ordering such a substantial breakfast, saying she was only thinking of her heart. In truth, she was saying that because she didn't want to wait around. The uninterested daughter guzzled her coffee and two small slices of rye toast in an effort to hurry her mother up.

Then we had a standoff.

The daughter was sick of waiting for her mother. She undermined her ability to cut up her food and grabbed the knife and fork from her. She stated that she eaten enough and asked for the cheque.

While her daughter was distracted, the mother simply leaned over to another adjoining table and grabbed another set of cutlery. By the time the daughter looked back at her she was shovelling another large slice of bacon into her mouth. We tried our best to stifle the laughs.

But the final, loud, all-involving, insult was coming.

“You’re gonna have to eat something before we come to the pancake house the next time. We have a doctor’s appointment and you’re going to be late!”

We sat open mouthed at this vile, ignorant comment. Why would someone have to eat before they came to a restaurant? But this elderly lady was made of stern stuff.

“Ah shut the hell up! I’m enjoying my breakfast and that doctor isn’t going anywhere! He’s seen me for thirty years and I’m always late. And you sure as hell aren’t going to pick up the tab here!”

Everyone in the diner was short of clapping her response.