At the window, My Name is Ryan was ready to take care of all
my caffeination needs. I know this, because he told me exactly that. I laughed,
put in my order, we exchanged funny comments, and done. So good, I thought. A
minute or two and some Instagram scrollthrough later, I was at the window. Ryan
– oh yeah, that guy – flashed me a million dollar smile, we exchanged my credit
card and a few sentences, and I was done. Pulling forward to the end of the
drivethrough and stopping at the sign before proceeding further, I realized
that I was grinning broadly.
Ryan. Random, funny greeting – probably a million times a
day. Smiling welcome of “oh hey, it’s you!” apparent recognition – again, a
million a day. Closing “hope you’re back soon because you’re awesome and I
can’t wait until we can hang out sometime soon, like come on already” smile – only
for me.
Seriously, it was just that simple. I was back in the office
in about 15-20 minutes, counting the walk from the parking lot (prime space
still available) and up the stairs (only three floors, but still, if we’re
counting). Still, the day had shifted. Was it Ryan? I mean, sure, I’d
definitely hang out with him, but who knows what he’s like outside of that
window. No, it was the exchange. More pleasant than expected, and uplifting, in
a less than cheesy way.
Sure, yes, I’m sensitive. After a particularly affecting
trip on a city bus in which a nearby man stood up to allow an older woman to
take his seat, I wrote a poem that started with the line “Fell in love on the
bus again today.” Sure.
At dinner, when I mentioned this to C and told him that we should
hire this guy, he pointed out that I’d told him about Ryan before. And I
realized I had. Further, I remembered Diner Ryan. Of course.
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