Oh, this is a riot. Look what happened to me: the other day I got a waitress at the Golden Grill all confused. I interrupted a very intense conversation with my breakfast mates about ways to get more Latinos and Blacks involved in Englewood Public library activities, to point out to the waitress that I still wanted more coffee, but someone had already removed my cup. It wasn’t sitting on the table near my right hand, where I had last seen it.
“Why is this lady looking at me so strange,” I wondered to myself. And she was motionless, just standing there with the coffee pot in her right hand, kind of frozen almost. She asked me a couple of time what I meant, and then I wasn’t sure what to do. Suddenly I became afraid that maybe she was having a stroke and had lost her power of comprehension. Finally, the waitress pointed at the coffee cup sitting right in front of me – the one practically touching the front of my shirt – and she asked me gently, “Could you be talking about that coffee cup, maybe?”