Early morning doctor’s visit, which of course means fasting. I never know whether, when, or how much blood they’re gonna want. My current theory is the vampire community was tired of the bad press earned by biting random folks on the neck for a meal (generally considered rude if uninvited) and instead have bought up all the lab groups/franchises as a much more reliable source…not only do they get the blood, but they *get paid for getting the blood*. But that of course…is another story.
So. Fasting. That means I’ve got to find some breakfast between the early morning appointment and when I get to work…at least, if the goal for the day is “don’t eviscerate anybody with a grapefruit spoon”. Breakfast is REQUIRED. And coffee…but if you didn’t know about me and coffee you’ve not been paying sufficient attention.
Thing is, the Dallas area is growing…massively. There’s more than 12 million people within 50 miles of me. 150,000 MORE people a year are moving in, and the result is areas are either slum or trendy, both if they’re transitioning, and near the vampires’…ur…doc’s headquarters and/or my downtown Dallas workplace even MORE so. With the time available before work this means my choices boil down to “shank central” or for days like today where I’m not in the mood to plop a side-arm on the table so I can finish my meal without a knife between the ribs, I end up instead at “Ridiculously Pretentious Breakfast Place”.
Note: If I ever start a food/beverage/bar business I’ll probably name it some sort of variation of the above. “Absolutely Ridiculously Pretentious something something”. Yeah, I know the ridiculously pretentious folks have zero sense of humor or irony…but they also wouldn’t recognize it as either.
“Hey, we need breakfast, where should we eat?”
“Someplace ridiculously pretentious.”
“Well I hear the coffee’s NINE bucks at that new place!”
The bright side of pretentious, however, is that it’s slightly easier to get something healthy at this sort of place…assuming you avoid the FOUR pages of various kinds of pancakes, plus the FIVE “pancake of the day” offerings.
You also need to be able to “translate” the menu, but long years on the road have made me pretty adept at that sort of thing. “Pretentious”, it turns out, is just a highly modified dialect of “Yuppie”, which some of you older folks may be familiar with.
I ordered, squinting at the menu and hoping my credit limit would cover it. Today I elected for an “impossibly pretentious egg-white omelette” with a side of “amazingly overpriced fruit”.
Of course, on the menu it was something like, “Cage-free organic-certified-hand-harvested egg white virgin frittata, with a sustainable harvested organic arugula, vine sourced pomme d’amour, hand chosen asparagus, carefully sliced agaricus bisporus, and courgette salad.” The side was “organically chosen sustainable lovingly non-mechanically sourced berries” or something like that.
Literal translation: “egg-white veggie omelette with fruit on the side”.
me: “And a large coffee in a to-go cup.”
her: “We don’t have a large. I can get you a Grande Deluxe Excesse…” That last word was pronounced with a breathless flair that I’d expect to hear from a high-end call girl offering a blow-job. She also thrust her chest forward in an effort to get the right breathy-ness. The resulting motions were intentional and downright mind-boggling.
me: *blinks, carefully keeping my thoughts to myself* “Uh. Yeah. That.”
Which hints at the point of this post: Moments and Vistas.
See, the scenery today, required in this sort of neighborhood and strongly enhanced by this morning’s tropical, balmy, breezy weather, is distinct and notable.
Predominant are impossibly long legs, tan thighs, snug micro skirts, way-too-tight sleeveless low cut tops, and high-heeled boots. It’s the default for the gals here today. They are at least 75% of the content of the restaurant patrons.
Despite the initial sticker shock the breakfast isn’t all that expensive when I factor in the view I’m getting with no requirement or expectation to shove $5 bills in g-strings. I expect that would be downright rude too, but I can never be sure of these things.
Oh, and those tall “breakfast counter” bar-stools provide an amazing enhancement to the view.
God bless Texas!
Oh, and since most of the “not-hot-chick” patrons (“tab a, not slot b” type) were soft-ish boy-men, my black jeans, dark shirt, and leather vest attracted more than passing attention from several of the “non-tabbed” variety of patron. Despite the early morning, they’re hunting, but it seems they don’t like the predominant prey found in these pretentious locales.
One asks where I’m headed. A thin veil, rendered downright transparent by the expression on her face. I glance at the parking lot and snort.
I’d pay real money to see one of those skirts mounting a motorcycle. I expect it’s pretty much NOT possible without running up against a half-dozen obscenity laws and perhaps starting a couple new religions, but I’m highly in favor nonetheless.
I am politely noncommittal. The cute little short gal that shares my life with me is more than enough.
That view though…it’s the stuff life is made of and if the day comes I *don’t* notice such things I’d be classed as clinically deceased, or perhaps will have joined the ranks of the pretentious boy-men, which is a worse fate methinks. I doubt I could ever utter the phrase, “Grande Deluxe Excesse” with the proper cadence anyway.
But I am what I am. I suppose they are too.
I’ll see you on the road.