Can't Think of a Title

So, I need to know something. Do you ever occasionally feel that feeling? Maybe I should be more specific. The feeling goes something like this... although nothing terribly major is wrong in your immediate life at the moment and you are having a nice time wherever you are, you feel uncomfortable and edgy in your skin. It's a feeling as if you just know that somewhere, someplace, something is not right. There are someone else's problems there hovering in the air, and if only for a little bit, you assume the responsibility for feeling them. I wouldn't think that this feeling is unique to me, but who knows. I will say that I felt it tonight. There was a funk peculiar to one local Steak 'n Shake restaurant.

Now I love Steak 'n Shake. I really do. But immediately upon entering the place tonight, I felt the tension. First of all, it's a noisy and cramped place. If you can snag a booth around the perimeter of the room, I've learned that it's not so bad. (Perhaps this explains why I never really outgrew my wallflower tendencies at junior high dances either. But anyway...) The booths along the windows are good for my seating strategy, but the tables out in the wide open middle? Not so much. Jim and I got stuck in the middle tonight, and we were getting battered by the edginess from all sides:

*Heavy-set man to the left. He wore a Bluetooth thingamajig in his ear during the entirety of his meal and then chose to speak way too loudly with it immediately following his last bite. Here's how he is, by the way... "Ohhhh, fine.... just... uhhhhh..... sittin' here with Wanda."

*Unhappy teenage grandkids to the left and slightly behind who clearly didn't want to be there with their grandparents. They sat in the usual teenage, slumpy way with their cheeks leaning on their hands. Elbows on the table. Mouths hanging open. Eyes vacant. I felt for their grandparents whose feelings, I hoped, weren't hurt.

*Unhappy slew of waiters and waitresses up at the counter who were audibly frustrated by the customers who would eat and run out without paying. Do people really do this? There was disgusted talk of the "dine and dashers." And a few looked happy just to sit down for a minute at an open table, roll silverware in napkins, and rest their feet. Service work is hard work.

*Thirty-somethings on the right with a toddler who'd missed his nap today. (This was an easy conclusion as they addressed him several times as "Mr. No-Nap.") The child cried easily several times. He couldn't draw his picture quite right. He didn't get to order the right food. He poked his eyeball with his pencil, etc. It had been a long day for him, and I was glad when he ended up on his Daddy's knee to receive some due comfort.

*A woman sitting diagonally from me, next to the window, who very possibly had a metal rod in her neck or a bad crick that prevented the turning of her head to look at people easily.

*Irritated woman sitting diagonally from me, opposite side, who was served her beautiful looking hot fudge sundae... but no spoon. The waitress wasn't noticing her glare quickly enough, and she was becoming more and more impatient by the minute.

And just when I was about to get further lost in the agitated crowd of all of these people clattering their dishes and practicing their frowning, Jim leaned over.
"Do you ever feel like you're sitting in a place where someone is about to jump up on a table and yell, 'Okay, people, be cool. This is a robbery!'"

Thank you, Jim, for making me laugh and helping me shake the Steak 'n Shake vibe. Let's hold hands as we get out of here.