Food Court

Yesterday I had to take my car in for service.  Having about an hour to kill, and it being close to lunchtime, a nearby shopping mall was where I headed to get a bite to eat.  This particular shopping mall is a large one that boasts — along with six or seven shoe stores and numerous apparel stores whose target clientele seems to be under the age of thirty — a spacious 'food court'.

In this court are purveyors of various cuisines, among them Chinese, Thai, Italian, Mexican, Filipino, and meat-and-potatoes American.  Their prices are all within the same approximate range.  A quick survey of what each steam table has on display does not awaken my appetite.  This may be because, having just returned from a leisurely cruise in which food was ever-present and in great variety, I do not find at all appealing the food court's offerings. To paraphrase the guy in the television commercial for a certain cruise line, a week or so ago I was treated like royalty; and now I am reduced to having to choose between nondescript pizza, pancit, and pad thai noodles.

No matter. The twenty or so tables in the center of the court are filled with customers.  The tables are not assigned to specific establishments.  They are shared by all of them.

Finally I settle on Burger King, ordering a fish sandwich and a diet soda.  The young fellow behind the counter is courteous enough to let me know that for about the same outlay I could have the combo meal, which would include french fries.  And also qualify for a senior discount of twenty-five cents.  (No, not twenty-five percent, just twenty-five cents.)

The seating area in the Burger King, located at an intersection within the mall, is open to the pedestrian areas on two adjacent sides.  A table at one of the openings offers a fine view of the comings and goings of the mall's customers.  It is here that I eat my fishburger and fries, all the while making notes in my little journal (from which I am adapting this piece), as I watch the people go by.

An elderly Latino couple, the man nattily dressed in a dark shirt and trousers, a brown necktie, a tweed cap; the woman beside him, presumably his wife, is short and plump, cheery, ebullient, chatting away at him and glancing up at him from time to time, though seemingly he pays her no heed.  The man carries a cane.  He and his wife both limp on the left foot. They limp along in unison, one short, one tall; one talkative, one silent.

The mall is well represented by seniors of the Filipino community, a large percentage of them male.  They come because the food court has decent homestyle old country fare.  Almost all the tables near the Filipino food counter are occupied by elderly Filipino men.  They all wear baseball caps.  Most of the caps bear the San Francisco Giants logo.

A Caucasian woman walks by.  She is large, has a mottled red face, a very large bust in a green blouse, and ankles that look swollen.  She walks with a kind of shuffle.

A couple comes.  They are short and barrel-chested, and I suppose they are Latino.  At first I take them for husband and wife, but as they approach I see that they are probably mother and son.  The son is blind, wears a felt hat, and has an telescoping aluminum walking stick, which he holds in the crook of his left arm, while his right arm is held by his mother as she guides him forward.

Now another family comes along, a Chinese family of four.  Ahead is an old man in a wheel-chair, pushed by a young woman who may be his granddaughter.  Behind her walk a man and a woman whom I assume are the children of the wheel-chair-bound man.  They appear quite devoted to both their father and their daughter.

A band of teenagers passes noisily by.  Four of them are wearing those ridiculous shorts, the seats of which are so low down that they are at a level with their calves.  The fifth wears trousers of an ungainly and baggy appearance, again with the low seats, except that the trouser legs are bunched up accordion-like around his ankles, practically hiding his outsized tennis shoes.  They all wear T-shirts which are much too big for them.  On their heads are baseball caps, some worn backwards so that the bills cover their necks.

Next comes a Muslim woman with a white head scarf, and a long dark brown dress.  She pushes a large-eyed child in a stroller.  The woman is plump and pretty.  Her derriere is, however, rather too abundant for her small frame.

A soldier in green-gray fatigues but no cap strides through.  He is tall, trim, and smart-looking.  His hair is cut very short all around, except at the top.  He could be a reservist home on furlough from the Middle East.

A young man, Filipino, crosses over to the Burger King.  He walks with a languid gait, almost a swagger, as though time means nothing to him.  His sunglasses are on top of his head.  He has a gold bracelet on one wrist.

A young couple, Latino, walk by, holding the hands of a young boy between them.  The woman is attractive.  She wears a bandanna tied at the back of her head, pirate-style, and a tight-fitting sweatshirt and blue jeans which show off her fine figure.  (I'm sorry, I do not recall what the man and the boy were wearing.)