Slow It Down

I am sitting in the parking lot of the medical lab building having just completed a few tests in preparation for a procedure I will be having on Thursday. Thursday procedure has everything to do with the fact that I have had an upset stomach along with other completely uncomfortable, now painful, symptoms for a number of months now. I am so tired of the discomfort and pain and I really hope that Thursday sheds some light on what is going on in there.

I get ready to turn the key and start up the car. It is 7:30am, I am a thirty minute drive from work and the day starts at 9:00am. “Steve, slow down,” and voice inside me says. “Take your hand off of the key and slow it down a second. Roll down the windows. Don’t turn on the air conditioning. Let the world in a little bit.” I breathe a deep breath and realize I could have just jetted to work and started the day an hour early for no reason whatsoever. I already know what is on my work agenda for the week and I have no real reason to show up so early. I take another breath and start the car.

A few miles down the road, I am listening to my ipod, feeling the breeze through the car windows and noticing people in their cars. My stomach is turning, which makes me feel generally nauseated, a state which has become the norm as of a few weeks ago. I start thinking about maybe eating some breakfast anyway. This reminds me of my mother, who in her later days battling liver cancer stopped eating due to discomfort. I recall telling her that she needed to keep eating if she was going to have the strength to beat the cancer. I couldn’t imagine feeling so sick that giving in felt better than fighting in hope of a better day. Though I think about these memories, I am no where near that now so I start to think about picking up bottled water and maybe a breakfast bar at a nearby QuickStop convenience store.

As I approach the QuickStop, I see this diner, the Amwell Diner, which sits a few buildings down. Everyone talks about New Jersey having this regular love affair with diners. So far I have only been in one and frankly I don’t think it qualifies. In my town I have visited the Frenchtown Cafe a number of times. But Frenchtown is such a little tourist trap that every business is a quaint caricature exaggeration of its common counterpart. If the average diner in New Jersey has a checkerboard floor, then the Frenchtown Café has a custom cut ceramic tile floor in the checkerboard style. See what I mean?

My ipod starts to play “All Possibilities” from the album “Have you fed the fish?” by Badly Drawn Boy. Hey if breakfast bars and yogurt doesn’t sit well on the stomach, let’s change the tune a bit. Pancakes and some bacon maybe? Orange juice and a coffee? Am I going to regret this later once it starts to snake its way into my digestive system? Probably. But for the moment, I am thinking of the possibility of pretending I am not feeling nauseated or in a bit of pain.

The Amwell Diner is amazing. I’ve driven past it so many times and wondered about it. Stepping in the door is like entering a time machine. It doesn’t look made-up or manufactured in an older style using new modern cheap material. It simply looks like I am in a very well manicured diner at some time between the 1950s and 1960s. Everything is shiny metal edges, reflectively clean flooring, and the room washes with a green tint when the sunlight comes in through the window shades. This feels unique and immediately relaxing. Then again, maybe every diner is generally like this in New Jersey.

I am invited to my own booth where I am offered a beverage. “Regular coffee, please?” I am left with the menu and quickly find the “hotcakes with bacon” option, which surprisingly comes with a small orange juice. I hope I can do this.

After ordering my food I take a sip of coffee and it is great. Mind you it is no Starbucks non-fat caramel cappuccino but it is smooth non-burnt diner coffee. Just a little more sugar in the coffee and I am diving into my copy of “The Sun Also Rises” by Earnest Hemingway. I can’t believe it has taken me so long to discover Earnest Hemingway. People have been raving about his writing for years and I have watched a number of films that address elements of his life or writing. I just had no idea that his writing style was so accessible. I recently broke my teeth on the very short “The Old Man and the Sea,” so this is my second foray into the Hemingway reading experience.

Even though the story is great and the characters are engaging, reading doesn’t keep my attention long because of a few living characters in the restaurant. To my left, a young girl and what seems to be her grandmother have started looking at menus. The girl is that lanky preteen aged girl who has recently started taking an interest in the adult world around her. You know that age? Asking a lot of questions of adults and having thoughts and opinions about the world they are discovering.

There is something special about the way a kid relates to their grandmother I have observed. A parent can ask a kid for a hug and also immediately get a, “Mom!? Not now!” in embarrassed response. But a grandmother asking the same question gets what she is requesting almost as if the kid were waiting to hear the request.

They are trying to figure out how to spend what seems to be their special day together, “Well, I thought we could look in the paper here. Maybe we could find a movie to go see?” The girl excitedly interrupts, “What about Mama Mia!?” They go on to excitedly chat about the movie, of which I know nearly nothing. Grandma says, “Actually, I did already go see it. But I would see it again if you want?” to which solicits the response, “Grandma, I saw it too.” They both laugh. The kid feels like she’s been busted! They both pretended to be interested in seeing it but it ends up they both already did. “Actually,” interjects grandma, “I’ve already seen it twice!” They laugh at each other. I can’t help but laugh a little too at their cute little interaction.

The food was great. The generally older population was highly entertaining and my stomach is already chastising me for the stupidity of this breakfast decision. I ignore it and enjoy the moment. I am soon out to my car, but not after paying the bill and congratulating the staff for what a great diner they have.

I stop before getting in my car and take a breath to offset a little pain. I have a half hour to get to work and I am about 10 minutes from it. Without even looking at the clock I am doing great on time and I have invested leisurely in the moment. No matter my stomachs complaints, I feel like it was a good investment. I start up the car and head on toward work to the remainder of the song “All Possibilities.”