Rebellion Abounds

As Jeff and I shopped for end-of-the-year senior awards at the local bookstore, we grew tired and hungry, and what are poor starving teachers to do when Pei Wei is only an exit away? Yep, but this blog entry isn't about the food. I've extolled the virtues of the pungent spiciness of orange peel tofu with vegetables several times already. And it goes without saying that the guys deeply enjoyed their helpings of honey seared chicken. Tonight's adventure was not in the food, but in the waiting.

Upon placing our order we were given a paging device that closely resembled a television remote control sans buttons. We promptly took said device and made our way to A.J.'s Fine Foods, which is several window fronts down the strip mall from Pei Wei. (Just as an aside, A.J.'s is an adventure unto itself. The gourmet grocery has interesting imported foods on every aisle, is decked with gorgeous fresh flowers across the front, and features the most wonderful fancy individual desserts I've seen beyond the walls of a French pastry shop in Vegas. Today's mission was simply to find something interesting to sip while we awaited our Asian dinner to go.) Just as we arrived at the patio section in front of the store, sporting its decorative wrought iron furniture and bistro deli menu, the device in my hand began to beep. "Wow!" I exclaimed to Jeff as we turned on our heels to head back to the restaurant. "That is the fastest we've ever gotten an order at Pei Wei." After about 10 steps, the beeping stopped. "Oh..." Jeff dejectedly commented, "I guess A.J.'s is out of range. Why don't you wait here and I'll get us something to drink."

Of course, I was having none of that since A.J.'s has every interesting flavor of soda pop, tea, and iced coffee known to man. "Surely it'll just beep a few times and quit," I said walking into the store with Jeff. Oh, how wrong I was! Not only did the beeping continue, it became louder and more frequent. (Presumably this is a theft deterrent on the device, though I would think anyone would gladly trade the plastic rectangle for a sack of freshly prepared and previously paid for food.) The increased frequency, along with stares from other customers in A.J.'s who probably thought I was carrying a bomb, spurred me to walk a little faster. About halfway to the back of the store - in the middle of the imported wine - a voice boomed from the device saying, "YOU ARE OUT OF RANGE! YOU WILL NOT BE ABLE TO RECEIVE YOUR SIGNAL! YOU ARE OUT OF RANGE!"

Of course, being the genteel Southern belle that I am, I immediately answered back. (Yes, in the middle of the store while everyone was watching.) Jeff has always maintained that I could talk to anyone who would listen, but apparently inanimate objects are also fair game. Just as the voice yelled at me and I responded, an A.J.'s employee was walking my direction (probably sent to determine if I was a safety hazard). When I said to the black box in my hand, "I know - I hear you - just shut up!" the look on his face was priceless. He stopped short in his stride, stared at me in horror (I'm sure the rich clientele who frequent the place would never make such a scene next to the carefully constructed display of French Bordeaux), and opened his mouth as if he wished to speak but no words came out. (In retrospect, he looked sort of like a fish gasping for air.)

At this point my Southern instincts again took over and I just smiled my sweetest smile, blinked my eyes innocently in his direction, and kept walking to the drink cooler where I quickly made a selection (all-natural white tea with honey dew extract), handed it to Jeff - who was snickering at the whole exchange - and sacheted out of the store. By the time I hit the sidewalk, the device again shouted at me and didn't stop until I was halfway back to Pei Wei, where I found a sunny bench by the take-out door to meekly wait for my drink and food.

The whole event was topped off by a comment from a passing three year old. The boy was trailing his mother and fussing with his jacket, which she had just insisted he wear. (It was rather blustery today.) As he scuffed along in her wake his eyes turned to me on the bench. He stopped, looked me up and down, and pointed in my direction as he announced, "SHE isn't wearing a jacket!" His mother, of course, grabbed his outstretched arm and trundled him quickly along, but I felt completely chastised. Not only had I made the grievous error of removing a paging device from Pei Wei's immediate vicinity, but I had the audacity to not wear a jacket on a windy day. I guess rebel should be my middle name.