No one tells you the truth. When you are a child the world for the most part is interesting, new, small, and immediate. I’m hungry ---- Mom feeds you; you don’t ask where the food came from, who paid for it or how much it costs, you just get food, eat and feel full. I’m bored --- Mom tells you to go outside, do your homework, phone a friend or whatever kids do now. I’m tired – Mom says to go take a shower and go to bed with no worries. As an adult it is totally different…I’m hungry comes with a million considerations. Do I eat out or make dinner? Which one is less calories, healthy and cheaper? Do I have the ingredients, or do I need to shop, if I shop how much do I spend? Should I put the $6.69 pack of chicken back for one that costs $6.29, what size can of this, how much of that, who is eating leftovers, and on and on it goes.
I mentioned that in 1984 I began working part time in a restaurant, night shift with a fabulous crew. I ran in late every night after some afterschool function or football game, changed in the bathroom and went to work. No one ever complained. Whomever was working the grill, my love Kelly, the awful Persian, Rallo or the flaming gay .. Joey (who was fabulous and so much fun and a bit creepy) immediately went to work making me something to eat to keep from dealing with my hangry personality. Then the fun began.
Typically, the boring, routine customers came in from 9 to about 11 then my usual people, or unusuals as I called them. There was sweet, old Willie, a large black guy in his 40’s with a round face, sweet smile and a pocket full of change. Willie was a junk dealer, drove an old blue ford and sold what he could to make ends meet which they often did not. So, on days when he only had pennies, I magically allowed them to purchase more then what he could afford to make sure he did not go hungry. I loved old Willie (looking back he wasn’t old if I compare to my current age). He did his best to make me laugh and brought me little gifts and made sure no one bothered me.
There was a group of Mobile PD Officers that hung out in my section when I was on shift to make sure I was well protected. Sweet Bobby Taylor who was a little shy and careful about his verbiage, Terry whose last name I can’t remember was cocky, laughed often, flirty, had a big smile and told the best dirty but not too dirty jokes. Pat Taylor who was tall, muscular, flashy smile, flirty, protective, and soft natured and while he was so much older them me, I was certain at some point there would be permanent relationship involving babies and being chased around the house daily in the future. Bobby Roberts was an ass all the time, he came across as demanding, rude, expectant, and mean but later would be the person who literally saved my life. Reese appeared in the early am hours just before closing and made sure I always left safely. He said he was addicted to waffles and needed breakfast before going home to sleep but after I left, he left the waffles, so I was on his watch list. These guys were always there when I was there. I was forbidden from going outside during a shift and warned about so many things I never thought of. I learned how to escape handcuffs when as a joke the ass cuffed me to a door because I yelled at him. He left me there for a good hour, so the others taught me how to escape. I learned how to pick locks, soft target self-defense, and more. It was like having extremely handsome big brothers.
And then there was Michael Janette. Mmmmmm Michael. I was forbidden by the others from dating, thinking about dating, touching, kissing, or even talking away from the restaurant with Michael. For some ungodly reason he was the devil or so they said. Mike was a Narc originally from NY with some history that I was never fully given details of. He was tall, tan, muscular, flirty, serious, cocky and beautiful with his brown hair, brown eyes and stupid aviator Raybans. He was also there with me every night even when off duty. He drove a maroon Grand Prix and had a thing for boots and unsweetened tea. Ordered the same thing regardless of time of day and always acted like his shit didn’t stink. When he wasn’t there in person, he was on the phone checking in. Michael was sexy and didn’t have to work at it. We spent a lot of time just talking about nothing or me listening to him talk about his workday/night on the phone, at the park, in the store, mall, beach, in his car, etc. You get the idea.
My world at age 15 to 16 was Kelly, Michael, Houston, Terry, Bobby, Pat, Bobby R., and a few other guys I’ll mention later. I brought home between $100 to 300 in tips each night and for a teen that was big money. My Mom and my Stepdad provided a home, food and provisions and I like all kids took that for granted. My friends and I went everywhere together, I loved high school and had a blast. My Waffle House crew was my second family and I loved them. Life was good, no it was pretty great.
As an adult I look back and realize that even though we were not wealthy, I never knew how rich I was. I had friends, grandparents, parents, a sister, a warm home, food, no bills, no real responsibilities, no real hard knocks yet. They were coming.
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