My Invisible Touch

 

I had pizza for lunch at a place I've been going to since 1987.

They finally changed their name after all these years and apparently have a second location a few minutes away.

Still, the guy running my credit card is one of the same faces I've seen since I was in college. So I'm guessing there were some retirements or splitting of assets or something.

Regardless, I had two slices of their pizza that is still among my favorites. Pretty remarkable given I've rarely had it fresh.

But that's not why I'm writing. Nor am I writing to say how I enjoyed a lovely drive up along the Hudson Rivera as I prepared to return my loaner car.

Oh, Fran, you shifty (not really) salesman. You knew that letting me drive that loaner would be a way to get me as a customer. But, the truth is, you already had me.

I told him that. 

For now, I got my own Nissan back and hit the road for Dutchess Stadium.

That is, I did after motoring along NY Route 100.

Then I hooked up with 9A.

No Taconic Parkway today because of road work that I saw the day before that reduced traffic to one lane.

And, well, I don't play nicely. I exited the TSP and used a few maneuvers. Not quite as suave as Han Solo, I suppose, but most people wouldn't know the sneaky little way I got around the traffic. Good old ancient bridges across the reservoir.

I'm all over the place. So, where was I?

Oh, that's right. Route 9A. Then US 9. Well, 9/6/202. Then, US 9 to NY 403 to 9D...

The towns flashed by. Ossining and Croton-on-Hudson and Peekskill (birthplace of a few of us) and Garrison and Cold Spring, then through the cool tunnel on the Putnam/Dutchess County under Breakneck Ridge.

Onto Beacon before I even passed Dutchess Stadium. So, we'd be back there.

I stopped for a much-needed beverage. Oh, yeah, remember the pizza? I didn't get a drink with the pizza. So, now I needed a coffee and a cold drink. A water would do.

Dunkin (sorry, they're still Donuts to me) to the rescue. Now, I'm not a big drive-thru guy. Just one of my quirks. So, I walked in and scooped up a waiting bottle of water from the fridge.

Then I stood at the register to order the coffee.

Oh, I heard voices.

I even saw faces.

Funny thing, though, they didn't see me.

Perhaps I'm invisible. 

Another man came in and stood on line behind me. He had a Yankees shirt on with a big white NY on the field of navy.

We waited. I cleared my throat. Sure, that'll show them. They'll hear me now!

Nothing. I could spy them glancing at their phones and giving beverage concoctions to the people at the drive-thru.

Yet they simply refused to look at the counter.

I even laughed out loud. To be honest, I was amused. Literally, nobody saw us.

Yes, despite my amusal and my willingness to wait this drama out, Mr. Yankes Shirt wasn't having it.

"Nobody's coming over?" he asked.

"No," I said with a laugh.

We hear about it all the time. Good help is hard to find. There are supply chain issues and so on.

He walked away, went to the opposite end of the counter, and bellowed into the back.

"Is anyone working at the counter? We've been waiting up here."

It wasn't rude. it was terse. Maybe even slightly disgusted. But it wasn't rude.

He just wanted his coffee and to get on his way.

I was just in no rush, but a nice lady walked over. Personally, I feared that she would spit in my hot coffee with cream and sugar. Alas, no issues.

At least I don't think so.

I paid, smiled, and laughed as I departed.

I went back to the road in my loaned Nissan. 

A few more wasted minutes with the sunroof and the excellent acceleration.

A little more time with the bells and whistles.

Then, back to the reality of my own car before going to the ballpark.

That had its own stories to tell but they can wait.

The water was quickly consumed. 

The coffee was soon gone also after a leisurely stroll.

Eventually, I returned home.

Game over.

Day over.

Night over.

And the Dunkin (Donuts) closed.

Their staff is home also.

More in-house customers to address tomorrow, I suppose.