Geriatric throwdown

The strange world of men...

Today while waiting in a long line for my morning bolus of caffeine, I witnessed a geriatric throwdown of epic proportions. Indeed. A long line of sleepy San Franciscans waited in a coffee shop off Divisadero. Yoga mats were slung over shoulders, unfortunate natural fiber outfits with quirky hats were interspersed with scrub attire and business suits. Sunshine streamed in the window. The effeminate barista peppered the crowd with cheery greetings lisped with great enthusiasm.

The door blew open and in walked a grumpy man in his sixties; corpulent, walrus mustache, thick glasses and mousy wife. The Walrus surveyed the packed room and barked at the Mouse, "Go get us that table! Go! Sit!"

Meekly she obeyed. I yawned and smugly contemplated spinisterhood. The line inched forward. By the coffee bar, a well dressed gentleman, tan, fit, white hair, late 50's? Talked with a blonde woman. At her side were two adorable dwarves. About seven years old, the girls had curls, matching dresses and sweet smiles.

"Daddy! Look! A fire truck!" one of the dwarves trilled to the Fit Geriatrician. The dwarves traipsed to the window for a better look. They passed the table at which the Mouse sat. Nary a breeze from their passing disturbed a shellacked hair on her head.

Nonetheless, "HEY!" bellowed Walrus.

Eh? I whipped my head up and around.

"Get control of your kids! They're bothering my wife! She don't need that! GET control of your kids NOw!" hollered Walrus.

Fit Geriatrician and Blonde looked shocked, then bemused. Replied Fit Geriatrician, "They're not bothering anyone. They just walked past your wife."

"I heard them! They said "Let's go bother that lady!" " galumphed the Walrus.

"No Daddy, we didnt!" Dwarf One protested while Dwarf 2 looked scared.

"That didnt happen" retorted Fit Geriatrian. "My daughters are good kids, they didnt bother her."

"Well you'd better get control of yer kids, or you and me are going to have a conversation outside!" bellowed the Walrus, as he shifted his impressive belly forward, and surveyed the large crowd with gathering pride.

"Ok," said Fit Geriatrician, "Let's go, right now." He angrily tossed off his beret and muscled through the line to the Walrus. There they stood, glaring, flexing aged muscles and emitting testosterone.

I was stunned. I kept waiting for a crowd to circle around them and begin the time honored chant of "Fight, Fight!"

Just then the slight Barista threw down his dishrag and in a throaty baritone projected, "HEY! You two! This is ridiculous and immature! Cut it out now!"

Fit Geriatrician bounced his aged pectorals one last time against the sagging chest of Walrus before walking away, menacingly.

Fit Geriatrician puffed out his chest. Walrus bowed his pendulous chins. The Barista went back to greeting his customers with high soprano cliches.

Every woman in the cafe looked at each other, and rolled their eyes.