Every payday for the last few months, I’ve been walking to the bank at lunch. I get some cash for our Westside Market trip on Saturday and a roll of quarters for laundry at home. I also get myself a little lunch money and treat myself to a lunch in the big city.
Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think I’d enjoy dining alone every day. Once every couple weeks, however, is kind of cool. Lunch is usually a couple slices of pizza from Sgt. Pepperoni’s in the Arcade, but sometimes it’s an Italian Sub from Quizno’s or a Ham ‘n Turkey from Subway. Whatever is on the menu, the atmosphere is the real attraction.
Since I don’t have anybody to talk to I find myself spending a lot more time looking around and just watching things. People mostly.
Like the three guys dressed alike with little name tags on their shirts. You can tell that two of them wanted to go to lunch and the third guy just tagged along.
Or the lady that’s obviously waiting for someone. She’s got her food wrapped up in front of her, and she’s reading a book. I can tell she’s hoping like hell that the person she’s waiting for shows up before her lunch gets cold. Or warm.
Outside, there’s the army of businesswomen marching around in their business dresses and sneakers. If they’re anything like the women I work with – their nice work shoes are kicked haphazardly under their desk back at the office.
Today there was a guy wearing one of those sandwich boards with scripture written all over it. He had a megaphone and kept reciting verses from the Bible. Just walking down the sidewalk. Middle of lunch-hour. A few people crossed the street to avoid him, but most people just kept on doing what they were doing. For them, it was just another day.
Another day downtown.