Larry and I are now empty-nesters. For many years, our weekends revolved around kid-related activities. Now it’s just us, and I frequently forget to plan anything for the weekends, so Saturday and Sunday just stretch on and on.
We have started filling the void by walking the dog to Rick’s Café for brunch, where we are joined on the patio by other old and bored people and their dogs.
There are about six patio tables where you can sit and attempt to eat as your dog sits under your table and barks its head off at all the dogs that walk by, which is an endless f*&@ing parade of dogs. Everyone in Los Altos seems to have about four dogs, and their chief occupation appears to be walking their dogs around downtown.
It is a small patio, so you can conveniently listen to the conversations of other diners if you find yourself unable to produce any conversation at your own table. This really helps to pass the time.
Larry and I and the dog were at a patio table at Rick’s recently when we heard what sounded like a small plane attempting to make an emergency landing on State Street.
A red Ferrari hove into view, making an unconscionable amount of noise. It parked on the street, and a youngish man wearing sunglasses, a tight polo shirt with lots of emblems, dark-rinse jeans, and colorful sneakers got out of its ridiculous gull-wing door. He assisted his lady friend out of her silly door. I will not describe her appearance as you are no doubt imagining it correctly.
To our surprise, they sauntered over to Ricks and sat down at one of the patio tables, looking rich and smug. The only other occupants of the patio were an older male couple, holding some chihuahuas on their laps and eating pancakes.
One of the older gentlemen said to the Ferrari owner, “Excuse me, but does your car really NEED to make that much noise?”
The Ferrari owner was nonplussed, as he was clearly expecting a compliment on either his amazing car or his obvious richness and virility.
He stammered, “No, I guess it does not NEED to make the noise, the muffler has been modified…”
I said “Well, it’s extremely annoying. It is ridiculously loud.”
The chihuahua-holding gentleman and I continued to berate the Ferrari owner until we felt we had mocked him sufficiently. It was very satisfying. I feel like a true Los Altan.