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Stepping into a scene

November 16, 2016

From a dark dystopian movie


Starring John Hurt, Richard Burton
Killer soundtrack by Eurythmics

There it was, it was kinda late,  11:00, other restaurants were closed or closing. IHOP,  Panda Express, the kinds, near hotels.

My wife and I,  took a quick trip out of town.  About 100 miles from home to a not so big, “big” city.  Big enough to support those chain like franchises.

Not sure if we traveled 100 miles out of town, or entered the “Twilight Zone”.

Walking,  near our hotel,  saw the lights on at another restaurant,  with plenty of cars still in the parking lot.

“Hooters”.  Plusgood, not too hungry, can order some appetizers and call it a night.

Entering the restaurant, it looked like,  standing room only.

It was, we said to the host, we’ll have a couple of beers, and wait a few.  To which she said.  Oh,  probably not, no one is leaving.  Ungood.  However,  she had an idea, and would be right back.

Oh oh, should have left, but options were limited, and getting smaller.


As a fairly decent observer,  (if you don’t believe me, just ask me) (haha) here is what I saw and heard.

“The Scene” or at least the similarity.

A restaurant filled to capacity,  TV screens on, all on one channel.   Where usually in those sports bar type restaurants, the conversational chaos, is just above the noise of the TV’s.

Nope,  not here, or now.  Everyone was staring,  saucer eyed, silent, and catatonicly at what easily could have been called tele-screens.

Verbal silence and disturbing stillness, held my rapt attention, foregoing what was on the TV’S, …looking for sound and movements to break the still, except for the waitresses that moved their way around the seemingly lifeless sedentary human sized cardboard cut outs.

All of a sudden some murmurs, grunts then cheers animated the docile mass of restaurant patrons.  Looking to the screens now, saw what was captivating their attention.

A UFC undercard cage fight.

As “The Scene” before me represented the Orwellian “Two Minutes Hate” where the proletariat people could vent their life frustrations in a single organized collective it’s okay to release those emotions,  so they could “deal” with the rest of their humdrum life.

Wait, it gets better.

The host returned to inform us, there was a gentleman, sitting alone in a booth for six, said it was okay for us to be there so we could sit and eat.

Might as well,  we’re here.  Ever friendly and way way way more social then myself,  my wife tried to engage in a conversation with our table occupant as gesture of  appreciation.

Found herself talking to a brick wall of unspoken robotic monotone ( I am engaged in this fever of my allotted time of emotion expressing towards the tele-screen, please don’t break that.)

As long as I’m putting words into his imaginary empty baloon of dull dialogue,  here goes,  (as soon as this two minutes,  hate is over and I slug down my “Victory Gin”, I will be more than apathetic to speak with you comrades.)

I swear I am always on the lookout for progressive enlightening consciousness evolution, sad to say, this wasn’t it.


From → dark, humor, random

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