Mar. 7th, 2005 02:29 pm
Lunchtime Bear Patrol
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muckefuckIt's really shame I don't get downtown for lunch more often, given what good bear-spotting territory it seems to be. The Panera is probably the best vantage point, but I like the food better at Chipotle. (Before anyone gets on my case about eating stealth McDonalds, I'll just repeat that if there were a decent Mexican place anywhere in town, I'd eat there; AFAICT, there ain't so I don't.)
Today there was the cutest salt-and-pepper daddybear there, so I turned my back to window and surreptitiously gazed at him. He had a ruddy head, with dark, deep-set eyes, a sparse line of gray hair separating bald spot from receding forehead, a dark mustache, a full white beard, full cheeks, and a shirt open to reveal a salt-and-pepper hairy chest. If he'd revealed some nipple, I'd be in intensive care right now; if he'd smiled at me, I would've fallen for him on the spot.
But he never smiled at all--and seeing more than a bit of his yummy neck and his hairy forearms was out of the question. I wasted ten minutes hoping to scope out the rest of his physique as he got up to put his coat on, but I got impatient and left first. He was sitting across from a gray-haired woman, who, like him, was wearing a stainless gray button-down shirt and deep-indigo jeans. I overheard her say something in a shrill and grating voice; his voice, however, was rumbling and a touch rough. They hardly spoke a word until they were finished eating and it occured to me that they might be Having a Talk.
Perhaps I need to take him into protective custody...
Today there was the cutest salt-and-pepper daddybear there, so I turned my back to window and surreptitiously gazed at him. He had a ruddy head, with dark, deep-set eyes, a sparse line of gray hair separating bald spot from receding forehead, a dark mustache, a full white beard, full cheeks, and a shirt open to reveal a salt-and-pepper hairy chest. If he'd revealed some nipple, I'd be in intensive care right now; if he'd smiled at me, I would've fallen for him on the spot.
But he never smiled at all--and seeing more than a bit of his yummy neck and his hairy forearms was out of the question. I wasted ten minutes hoping to scope out the rest of his physique as he got up to put his coat on, but I got impatient and left first. He was sitting across from a gray-haired woman, who, like him, was wearing a stainless gray button-down shirt and deep-indigo jeans. I overheard her say something in a shrill and grating voice; his voice, however, was rumbling and a touch rough. They hardly spoke a word until they were finished eating and it occured to me that they might be Having a Talk.
Perhaps I need to take him into protective custody...
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