Hat
A friend and I met for dinner this evening at DERA, our favorite Pakistani restaurant in Jackson Heights. Everything was going more or less according to plan. The night was cool, the food was excellent, there was consistently no aloo palak despite it being consistently on the menu. Then about halfway through our meal, I suddenly became aware of a dirty old man hovering over my shoulder.
When I looked up, he started mumbling and making vague broad gestures at our table. After a moment, my friend asked, “What do you want?” Our guest responded by taking our water jug and a nearby Pepsi can, and trying to pour the contents of the one into the other.
The man soon came to the realization that this operation was more logistically difficult than he had originally imagined, and set the items down, giving them a dismissive wave and vague yet unmistakable mumble of derision. He gave another quick survey, then started reaching for my friend’s water glass. Despite my friend’s repeatedly saying “no” with increasing firmness, the man took his water glass and went about his pouring maneuver with greater success.
At this point, my friend decided that action should be taken before any of our food met the same fate. After failing to signal to the waitress, he tracked her down and started explaining the situation. While I could not hear the interchange, it seemed that her less than precise grasp of English was leading to some confusion about why he wanted me thrown out after we had ordered together. However, she eventually got the gist of his wild hand gestures, and came over to ineffectively ask our personal vagrant to leave. Finally, the man behind the counter caught wind of what was going on, and ran over tour table, grabbing the shabby man and forcibly escorting him outside.
We dismissed the establishment’s apologies with “it’s okay, it’s New York” and returned to our meal. But a moment later, the man wandered back in. This time, however, the guy manning the counter caught sight of him almost immediately. Pausing briefly to wrap up some food, he leapt into action once more, this time with a bag in his hand. By all appearances, he was trying to bribe the man not to come back by offering him food. But, this self-serving altruism was to no avail, and we spent the rest of the meal watching random waitstaff members throwing him out every few minutes. On the plus side, we were given two free DERA hats for our trouble, along with the check. We tipped graciously for the food, the hats, the story, and the personal body guard service, which does not come standard with most meals.
There is a simple lesson in all this: like Malcolm X who would not sit with his back to the door for fear of his enemies, we will no longer take the closest table to the door for the fear of thirsty hobos.
-TC