The Great Smoothie Divide

We should have known when we walked in. There was certainly enough warning, but since we were thirsty we threw caution to the wind, stepped into the store, and out of our element.

It was a warm afternoon and we wanted smoothies. It was only a small shop in Northern Sacramento, but it might as well have been Wonderland, with the absurdities that followed. Loud music blared when we opened the door, and our orders were taken by a pleasant young man who, unfortunately, had not yet learned to speak. His nametag said simply, "Jeff – let me help you." We told him what we wanted.

"D’yana boos n’at?"

I thought, "Oh good grief, my hearing’s shot! I have absolutely no idea what he just asked me." I looked at my husband, who was staring incredulously at the fellow, thinking his ears were going, too. Almost in unison, we said, "Excuse me?"

"D’yana boos n’at?" Thank goodness there was a sign behind his right shoulder that helped us figure out what he was asking. Oh! A boost. Do we want a boost in that? No, thank you. Just the smoothie, please. Yes, that one. How much? I beg your pardon? Oh! Okay. Here it is. My name? Judy. Yes, I can. J-U-D-Y.

We sat on stools to wait for the drinks, and didn’t notice we were only three feet from the grinding machines. Immediately they were fired up and they roared in unison as the fellow tending them gave them a loud whack every few seconds, just to help them along. He did this to the tune of earsplitting music and the banging of a huge metal pan being pounded around in a sink. Meanwhile, Jeff-let-me-help-you had evidently offended another employee, because she was marching back and forth yelling, "Shuddup! Shuddup!" The ruckus was only exaggerated as it ricocheted off the walls.

I looked up to see my husband saying something to me. I knew he was talking, because his lips were moving. I think he was saying something important, too, because he was waving his arms, pointing toward the door, and had a wild look in his eyes. It was suddenly all too much, and I started laughing.

Nobody heard me though, because my laughter was absorbed by the rest of the cacophony. I looked like a fun house clown, my head bobbing back and forth, mouth wide open, and no sound coming out. That’s what got my husband going, and then he couldn’t stop, either.

Totally hysterical, we stumbled for the door as soon as someone handed us our drinks. Since we couldn’t hear our names, we didn’t realize we had been given someone else’s smoothies until they were hastily snatched away, and the right ones shoved into our hands. We somehow made our escape, pushing each other out onto the sidewalk, but not before I noticed one of the teenagers rolling his eyes and nodding at us as if to say, "Boy, it must be awful to get old!"

Comments

[L]

OMG! That made me laugh! I guess I must be old, too. :)