Note: Some of you who read my blog either very early in the morning or very late at night will have noticed that this first posted yesterday morning. This was accidental. It was meant, all along, to post today. However I switched dates with the post for World AIDS Day yesterday. So, it's back in, right where it was supposed to be.
I was getting a falafel. Mike and Joe were getting soup. Part of me just really loves food courts, I love the variety and the communal nature of them. I'm lucky I have two near me. One upscale. One not. Both accessible. All right! So there was a fellow with what I took to be a Russian accent working the Falalel place. He chatted with me, really nice - nice nice, not creepy nice - as I pointed out the stuffing I wanted to fill the pita. I was a little taken aback by his warmth. I'm not used to warmth, now or ever, from people who work in these places. I am fully OK with just civility. But he was nice.
As he put the hot falafels into the pita he asked me what I wanted to drink. I wanted a bottle of water. He put the water, laying down not standing up on the tray along side the wrapped falafel. I was pleased. As I carry my own tray I always lay the bottle down. I don't want to have to balance the tray with a bottle teetering on it. I don't 'Cirque de Soleil' my way through a food court. He was telling me that the falafel pita is the most popular, I told him that I'd had it there before and it was always good. He smiled.
Just as I picked my tray up he said, "Mister," softly. I looked at him, "my mother used a wheelchair for most of her life. For what you have to put up with I say, I'm sorry. People who walk never think about people who do not. Have a good time with your friends."
And thanked him.
I knew he had been very nice, and I suspect that's just his nature, but I suspect that he was being particularly nice to me when making my wrap. I thought it great that he took what he learned from his mother's and applied it to how he lived his life.
I suspect his mother would be proud.