Monday, April 17, 2006

Easter Night

Until tonight I'd never seen McDonald's as a refuge. But now I look from one tired-faced woman to another and something dawns. The kids, some still in Easter dress, zip down the massive play area slide on their food trays. I'm pretty sure they're not supposed to be doing that. The clatter is nearly deafening but garners no reaction on the women's faces. Possibly they know something I don't.
Maybe they're wearing earplugs. Possibly there is a bin of earplugs at the playroom entrance and I missed it.
Likely not.
But there should be.

I get this feeling occasionally that I'm operating outside some general rubric I failed to assimilate during childhood because of some minor misstep.

Maybe they're letting their kids jump and climb and scream out their jelly beans. Refugees from Easter.

Or maybe, like me, they're seeking someplace bright and normal to try to make sense of things that are not.

I wonder if my face looks as strained and pinched and disappointed as theirs do. I'd like to think not. But then, it's been a long Easter day.

I wonder if some of them are just avoiding going home.


Derek Ash said...

That is one of the most brilliant yet sad little things I've read in a long time. I wish for your sake that it's fiction... though I know it's not.

There are all these places in the world that we've rendered dead with our fluorescents , and our fast-food, and our asphalt and linoleum... They are dangerous places for reflection. Dead places only reflect back our dead parts.

All else aside, Lisa, I commend you on garnering over a grand for the CBDLF.

KT said...

Any port in a storm, and all that.

It's strange, the little perfect moments, or the moments of refuge, that can be found in such corporate, cookie-cutter places.

I had a delightful moment in a Starbucks early last week. The place was empty except for me and an old man with his paper. It was sunny out, and warm, and they were playing Frank Sinatra.

Starbucks has never felt so much like home.

vandaluna said...

It must be the mercury in the seafood.

K said...

That K wasn't me, but it could have been. I know that temptation to spin out the cold last half-inch of the cappucino.

Alain de Botton wrote a really good piece about the calm to be found in service stations and airports, because they're places of transition: you are separated from your normal life, so you don't worry about it.

boneman said...

I dunno. Zeppellina sent me over here to see yer stuff, and I'm glad she did. She still hasn't sent me off on any wild goose chases, so I trust her big time.
'Course, is this a wild "rat" chase?
Nice stuff, gal. The hands are cool lookin' and the spectacled rat was also a treat to see.
Haven't been to the "big" site, yet, but, promise to go look in a moment. I'm sure it'll be filled with fun things there, too, eh?

boneman said...

WOW! Those were cool!
But, when I went to the other site to tell ravyn, it seemed somewhat, uh, left behind. Like, January was the last post.

On the other hand, your "frozen stories" will now haunt me for days, I'm sure. COOL!

(ps....are those representations of a brain trust?)

(perhaps I should ask and determine if you have a sense of humor before saying shtuff like that there....)

(nah. It's way more fun to say then think...)

Thanx fer sharing your visions!

Derek Ash said...

Tell her you looked at them in your underwear.

See what she says.

Derek Ash said...

I finally put a picture on my profile. Check it out.

ravyn said...

right, i don't do anything on that Lab Rat blog, just test out different layout settings to use on Lisa's blog.

But i'm glad you like the site! Thank you!

K said...

Niiiice, RRNN. *shivers*

Alys Sterling said...

McDonald's isn't normal. Bright, OK, I grant you that. Also frightening. RRNN, you have it exactly.

I don't see how anyone could possibly relax in an airport, either.

Me, I prefer libraries. Bright, quiet, and the main branch nearest me has a coffee shop. And of course, they're full of my favourite things.

vandaluna said...

Cute pic RRNN!

We've not heard a peep out of the West. Hmm...
Lisa, you okay?