The other night the cafe filled up with stranded train passengers. They came over from the Amtrak station because there was a 4-hour delay before their train arrived to take them all to Seattle. I can think of a lot of things to do in 4 hours, but playing canasta doesn't even register at the bottom of my list. No insult to canasta players, but I just wouldn't think to whip out the cards and get a game going.
The only other time I heard of canasta was an old Warner Brothers cartoon where a little mouse, playing head games with a cat, wrote a letter to the cat asking him to come over and play canasta. Only it was signed, "the dog." Thinking the dog was ready to put aside their differences and be friends, the cat strolled out to the doghouse with a table, a deck of cards, and some lemonade. --the dog beat the shit out of him.
So it was kind of weird when I saw a young college-aged couple playing canasta at the tall table in the center of our cafe. At one point Canasta Girl came over to order drinks, she was the friendly type and kept asking about different drinks and making small talk. Occasionally, I'd glance up to see Canasta Boy staring intently in my direction -- it took me a little bit to realize this, but that sumbitch was giving the evil eye!
We've all seen this before. The insecure boyfriend who quickly clings to his girlfriend in public as soon as he realizes there are other men in the room. But C'MON, when your keepin' your pimp hand strong by displaying your canasta skills, that evil eye is about as threatening as a weak 3-card meld. (wha?)
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment