Around Jawnville: A Man And His Dunkin’
I saw him sitting at the tiny, hard plastic, table with stools attached to it just inside the entrance to a Philly Laundromat. Two cups of Dunkin’ rested on the table in front of him. He wore a muscle-shirt on so folks could see his bicep ink. However, he did not wear a mask, as state guidelines mandate for entering places of business. He sat there daring someone to say anything to him about not having a mask.
Someone did, but not to him. Apparently, his wife was also in the Laundromat. She too wore no mask. Another female patron took offense. I don’t know her motive. Perhaps, she had an underlying condition and dreaded going to the Laundromat for exactly this reason. Whatever her reason, she mentioned something to the wife.
I know this because I could hear the wife relaying the story to the husband. An angry and loud “Leave my wife alone” followed shortly after.
The woman did not relent. The banter went back and forth between the non-wife female patron and the muscle-shirt guy. I couldn’t hear much from where I stood.
Voices intensified.
The husband yelled, “I have fucking mask. It’s right here.” He held the mask up shaking it in frustration
His wife told him to “relax.”
The female patron still going, unafraid, but inaudible to me.
Then, I heard it. I heard the question and quandary that was at the heart of this man’s issue. He bellowed out a resonating, “HOW AM I SUPPOSED DRINK MY FUCKING COFFEE WITH A MASK ON?”
I felt for him. That’s truly a pickle of a situation. I didn’t have an answer for him. I mean, how is one supposed to enjoy their morning coffee at the Laundromat in the middle of a pandemic and be expected to possibly protect others from COVID-19 by wearing a mask. That’s just not doable for us mere mortal men.
He yelled, “Call Jim Kenney! Tell him to come down here.”
That’s when I knew this guy was in a bad place. He needed a friend. He’s probably pissed about the cost of his sodas, afraid he might lose his Columbus Day Holiday, and he might be a Mummer. Understandably, he didn’t need this static about wearing a mask indoors, where virus transmission has been proven to be, in a word or two, easy.
As I pondered a solution to this existential dilemma, he stormed out of the Laundromat in frustration. He lit a cigarette and exhaled a relaxing plume of smoke that seemed to stretch to the heavens.
That’s when it hit me. EUREKA! He could enjoy his coffee the same way he does his cigarettes— OUTSIDE.