The Buddha Baker and I were taking a cigarette break around 2:30 a.m. last night when this white, unmarked, Econline Van pulls up around the back of Tims Hortons. "So, you guys partying?" yells the dude from the front seat. Dumbfounded, The Buddha Baker and I stare at each other trying to find something to say; Nothing comes. "I'm just messing, ha ha," says the dude.
So I walk inside and start taking the dude's order: two toasted bagels with cream cheese. Seemed like a pretty basic order and I make it (taking my time as not to cut myself on the bagel-cutter two nights in a row.)
I ring up the total - three bucks and some change - and open up the drive-through window to find the dude slumped over in his driver's seat, looking dead. "Here's your bagels, sir." The dude - late twenties, round and pretty clean cut - springs into action like someone being hit by lightening. He nearly slams his head against the roof of the unmarked van, but composes himself enough to inform me that: "I'm fucked up, man. I shouldn't be telling you this, but I am. I had a fight with my girlfriend, so I went out tonight."
"Here's your bagels, sir, maybe they will sober you up a bit," I say to the dude, noticing all the carpenter equipment loaded up in the back of the van. It appears that the dude has taken out the company van for a late night bender at the raunchy strip club just down the street from Tim Hortons. He is by himself, which makes me feel kind of bad for him, so when I give him back his change I tell him to watch out for the 5-0 and that I hope things work-out with his girlfriend.
Now, I don't usually wish people good luck with their personal life in the drive-through, so I just figured that the dude might let me keep his change - a buck and some change - as a tip, but no. While slamming one of the bagels into his mouth he grabbed the change and gave me a thumbs-up and drove off.
I hope the cops did pick up that sordid lush.