I can usually  figure things out.  But sometimes a thorny conundrum plants itself at my feet and remains there unmovable - inspite of my analytical efforts.  

So, when that happens,   I decide that either the question is so chaotically random - as in butterfly wings or Jennifer Anison's acting success — it is a thing to which neither critical thinking or logic can be applied......

Or  I come here,  to OS,   and lay out the problem for more abstract minds to prod and shake around.  

A recent morning at Denny's restaurant begs for explanation.  Mostly,  I have drawn a blank.   It's started like this............ 

* 

 Somewhere in the second half of the Super Bowl game,  I was absently crunching away on some fresh carrot chips and guacamole',   when I noticed a commercial for Denny's.  They were giving away "FREE BREAKFAST!"  this coming Tuesday.  6 am till 2 pm.  The "Grand Slam" variety.  Big deal I thought.  

I hit the mute and settled back  to mince the question of how - exactly- Arizona would blow their lead.  The handwriting was on the wall.   They were playing with all the precision of a coke fiend sewing on a  collar button.  Any moment,  bloody defeat would begin to spurt.

It didn't take long. 

*  

When Tuesday morning came,  I was driving a wide boulevard in SW Florida.  It was  landscaped with neat rows of freshly planted  Queen Palm and gleaming with eggshell colored curbs and gutters.  Nice.  Sort of a retro look.....  I mean for  a state almost a trillion in the red this year.  The act,  I speculated, of a quick fingered local congressman who managed to swipe the last,  unnoticed wafter of pork from the barrel before the dire weight of the economy had smashed down on the lid.

The air was cool and choppy, but plenty of snowbirds were already out on the road mixing it up;   terrorizing the the morning trades crews commute. Their massive ships of Detroit steel from up North;  sitting through green lights,  abstractedly changing lanes,  cutting off semi-trucks,  going 30 mph  in a 50 ...... pitted against the hustling, beaten panel trucks and shabby pick-ups of the last sheetrockers, stucco men, roofers and asphalt layers left in the sunshine state;   who now run wildly from job to job hoping to stay ahead of the pink slips and job cancels.  

I was heading over to the giant "CLOSEOUT SALE!"  at Circuit City.  Picking up a data cable.   I knew  the whole thing was a marketing scam,    I knew how the scam worked....private liquidator's and such.  But there's a few items that will eventually drop and are actually a deal if you happen to hit it right.   ( Okay,  I’ll admit it, mostly  I  like wandering the techie aisles and watching the Blue-Ray nature shows on Plasma screens.)   But don't hold your breath for a killer discount,  and don't drive more than two  gallons of gas out of your way.  

(Note here:  Before I reached the store,  I pulled over at the Goodwill where I picked up a new data cable I wanted  - 22.00 $'s ON SALE! at C.C.  - for 50 cents.  Works fine.  )

 I eventually made it to Circuit City,  some red shirted bodies were moving around inside,  but they'd changed their hours.  Now a ten a.m. instead of nine.  Makes sense I guess. Why not sleep in? Practice up for the lethargic freedom of imminent  unemployment?  So, maybe I grab a coffee.  Hey,  across the street, there's a Denny's.  Wait a second, don't I remember during the Super Bowl something about........

 I pulled into the parking lot and tasted the  strange and metallic edge of disorganization in the air.  A quiet, unknown urgency.  My senses opened like pores and breathed with awareness .   Not danger....but something atavistic,  something  primitive was  at work.

Slow moving cars   were stalking the lot,  then suddenly they'd  swoop into a empty space like famished raptors  from prairie telephone lines to attack and then vanish among the cover.  Families dodging traffic,  stridently shuffling ahead in sly, quick,  jog-walking bursts toward the entrance. 

What the hell was going on?  Had  the Beatles had spiritually reunited and picked Denny's for a concert venue?  Altamont 2009?  I was lost.  There were few other things I could imagine.  What  could create  this sort of stir at a Denny's on a Tuesday morning?   But then I remembered.  Grand Slam's for Free! 

 Really?  I picked a parking spot out of the way of the madness  and got out of the car.  I was brushed back as I rounded my fender by a very round, urgent  mother dragging two dirty faced toddlers behind,  with a third strapped papoose fashion on her back.   I moved with extreme caution from there.

Camera? Hell yes,  I had my camera.   

A   staggering vision was revealed as I rounded the orange tenting of the next door Hooters,  the site's magnitude  immediately preyed on my brain, ripping and tearing away great chunks.  Answerless questions came flooding in.....flying at me like ax handles.  "You've got to be kidding" is all my feebled mind could muster.   It pinballed in my head.   

There was a Happening at Denny's.  Good God! 

The crowd that gathered had nothing - then again, maybe  everything -  in common.   But  sure as they stood there waiting,  they were all adorned,  regardless of age, height or girth,  in a eerie calm.  A nearly cultish  pallor shaded over them.   Would the Great Oz speak?  They waited. The line was growing in pulses.  

 This can't be! What IS going on?   This human snake,  winding out into the parking lot,  has materialized merely to the beckon of a free breakfast?  No way!  I wondered if Madonna and Britney were  inside performing some sort of tag team waitressing debauchery.  Or was it Maury Povich DNA  identification day?  

But as the size and  the mood of the crowd grew in it's commitment,   I came to understand...... there was no deeper purpose.  This "event" was solely predicated on a promise of two eggs (any style), a couple of strips of bacon, two ulcerous sausages, and a short stack of doughy hotcakes.  All free.   By estimates -  I obtained my information from a damp and already  withering  woman taking names on a waiting list - by the time I'd arrived 400 people had already come and gone.  Waiting time: 2 hours.  

 In the line,  I sensed the crowd  anxious, but managing remarkable self- control.   As if they were waiting before  some  delicate mirrage -- that may disappear at the advance of a single false step, or errant lapse of faith.   Would the magic last for them?  Could the multitudes really be fed?

I watched.  My brain spun. 

 Occasionally an elderly person waiting in line on the sidewalk with their blood sugar dropping, would stumble off the curb and quicklybe  gripped upright, saved,  by an attentive family member.  

Near the front of the line,  I saw that a slender young girl in a high school jersey and tiny spandex shorts  had finally succumbed to it all.   Given way to the supressed excitement.   She'd begun twitching her arms involuntarily,  short stabbing motions in the syncopation of a school cheer while gasping faint bursts of the marching melody.   Ready- Set - Oh-kay! 

Two white haired men,  side by side  in cardigans, stood  stoically jutting their jaws, looking forward, and  giving their pudgy wives furtive nudges at the appropriate times.  I kept it in my mind that these people,  all of them probably,  were well aware that this was a two hour sojourn.  An all morning commitment.  But they were all believers.   Bacon, eggs and syrupy salvation lay just beyond the double green glass doors.  

 I was agog. ( No really, agog is the right word.)  The images of the scene first entered my optic nerve bright and clear as the  tropical sunshine,  but as they travelled along,  they lost focus,  when the reached gray matter I couldn't decode them.   Agog!

Slow. 

Maybe  if I  could  logically break it all down into smaller, understandable pieces.....maybe  the undecipherable horror would melt away?  Or at least fashion itself into recognizable form.  

So I calmed and reached for the  basics:  These people were hungry.  Simple enough.  Tough economic times made obtaining any free food just good sense.  Maybe?  But as I looked around,  the idea that many of these people NEEDED food quickly disappeared.   They wanted,  but needed was  off the table.  So to speak

For the majority, the only line they belonged in was  the  Admitting Window at a good  clinic.   These people weren’t hungry,  not in any normal way anyhow, they were clearly motivated by something else. 

So there must be an obvious economic benefit I can’t see.  I'm misssing something!   Hmm... what are they really getting ?  

So  I did some easy math and,  depending where you shop,  I calculated the actual value (food cost) of the meal, comes to about 90 cents.  For Denny's a little less.  This equation left me more confused and disoriented than ever.

Because let's asssume an average scenario: (being conservative)

 Hit the shower and dress (15 mins), 
 Jump in the car and drive one way,  including stop lights, traffic etc. (15 minutes), 
Arrive to wait in line (2 hours), 
 Be seated, take order, receive food, ( 30 mins, very conservative),
 Eat food, (15 mins).......

Drive back home.

 No way  the whole expedition taking less than 3 1/2 hours.   For a 90 cent breakfast you could make at home in ten minutes - and not have your  coffee cup empty half the time.   25 cents an hour for your time?  Couldn’t be.   And,  for those considering the whole "having someone else serve you" aspect,  come on....have you been to Denny's lately? 

 And yet for this bulging crowd,  it all made sense. They kept coming.  All sizes.  

* 

 I secured a new vantage point on an outdoor picnic table  at the Hooters next door.   I used the height to snap a few pictures.   I had to admit it,  there was a certain excitement in the air.  People were generally upbeat,  if cautious about their place in line,  and ready to strike up a friendly conversation. 

I noticed a particularly well dress retired couple looking quite satisfied with the proceedings,  as if they were balancing  on some sort of terrestrial gang plank,  anticipating the departure of a bargain cruise line. 

I spotted the round lady from the parking lot. She'd  reversed her papoose around to her chest,  using the sleeping child’s head for a chin rest.   But most were  looking around placidly,   as if waiting in line two hours  for a free 90 cent breakfast were the most natural thing in the world.

I was  stumped.  It was all too bizarre.  I knew the only way I’d sort it all out was to mingle a bit,  sort of a man on the street thing.  Get some answers from the People.  They must know why all the fuss.  I crawled down and returned to the the fray.

At first I felt too awkward.  Walking up to strangers -  especially engaged in an obviously mindless activity -  leaves far too much open range for my normally sarcastic disposition to work in.  Some have even used the word "condescending"  when I'm embroiled in human situations which particularly mystify me.  

So,  I’d go slow,  feel it out.  I picked out a threesome of folksy looking office girl types.   Resplendent in Dacron.

“Nice day for it,” I began.

“For what’s that?” the larger,  more dramatically coiffed one answered. 

Oh no,  I was already doomed.  This would be more difficult than I thought. 

“Umm...well,  something like this.”  I nodded around. 

It was necessary to be slightly cryptic.  I wanted to see how they perceived things.  No leading questions.   For all I know,  they waited in lines like this everywhere they went.  Never assume.

“Oh, dunno.... we just thought it would be fun.”  Her companions added two compliant,  nodding smiles.  So, she wasn't making that part up. 

Fun? This,  I’d never considered.   Entertainment value? This answer made me nervous but I proceded. 

“And…..?”  I lead, trying to bring her to some sort of declarative conclusion to her statement,  but this technique eluded her.  So I continued with,  “Is it?  Fun that is ?”

“It’s okay I guess.  We didn’t expect the lines to be so long,  but we’re already here now,  found a good parking spot right over there, this guy was just pulling out,  we got really lucky,”  he two friends agreed they were indeed lucky. She pointed at her car a short distance away with pinky fingernail stenciled with a glimmering white  frog;  it extended just far enough beyond her pudgy hand to notice the direction.  “ So, you know, we stayed.  What the heck. ”

“Yeah,  what   the heck.”   I repeated the sentiment,  consciously abating my sarcasm. 

I found out quickly that I had very little to probe here.   Pretty straightforward stuff.  Free breakfast,  misguided notions of “fun” and apparently endless amounts of free time on their hands.  I stayed with it though,  as long as I could,  even if it meant saying something inane.  I did.

“I saw this advertized in a Super Bowl ad,  I sure didn’t think it would be such a big deal,” I ventured carefully.

“You did?”

“Uh-huh” 

“See it on TV?”  She brightened at the thought of national exposure.

“Umm...well, yeah.  Right there after the Go-Daddy.com  tits. ”

“Super Bowl.  Oh wow!  We were just driving by when Patty,  that’s Patty,” she pointed and I  nodded in the girl’s direction, “ said she thought they were giving away free food.  So,  what the heck,  we checked it out.”

“Yeah,”  I whispered,  “What the heck.”

* 

None of my other quickie interviews went much better.  An elderly man sensed my skepticism,  and assailed me with his own brand of skeptical venom by questioning why someone wouldn’t want a free breakfast?  Was I nuts? He left me with the feeling he was finally “sticking it to the man.”  

 I walked up near the door  to ask the hostess about waiting times  and a frantic  mumbling plea rippled through the line.  Something about  me trying to cut in.   Again,  this made me nervous.   Who knew when this patient group of expectant diners might rampage?  Even from the shallow depths my informal interviews  a blind man could see it wouldn't take Al Pacino screaming "Attica!" to stir up the black meat in these brains.  

So with almost certain vigilantism looming,  I quietly retreated to my perch at Hooters.  It began to cool.  The Florida day was slowly falling apart,  under assault from a great sweeping frozen arm pushing it's way across the corn belt.  Buy noon, the sky would darken it's face.

* 

A girl, woman rather,  in a pair of well tailored Hooter orange sweats and a pleasantly snug tank-top was setting out condiments on my table.

“Whatta ya think?”  I just motioned toward the growing mass of people.

My Hooter’s girl, um woman,  was perfectly built for the uniform.  Long narrow waist and high, brown swimmer's shoulders pulling at the tank top.  Low body fat.  A thick falling of flax.   But the tiny lines cracking open at the edges of her wide green eyes put her age above thirty.  Then her husky worn voice added another couple of years to her still very lovely face.

“Bunch of goddamn nut cases if ya ask me.”  She moved away and attended to the next table without looking up.  

Okay. 

For  umm... more experienced,   hospitality workers,  the line between business being “open” and “closed”  is clear.   I was on her dime.  This Hooter’s wouldn’t open for another hour,  so in that way,  she let her abundant personality enjoy a free rein.   Also, being from a recognizable part of rural Kentucky  lent a certain freedom of expression to her reply.  I liked her. 

She continued.  “ I was taking my girl to school earlier, went by here around seven,  same thing.  Maybe a few less.  But it was a chilly ass mornin’.  You know?   Folks standing around in a damn parking lot for a couple of eggs.  Beats me.”

“When I asked  them,  most of them thought it was worth it.” I offered.

“Yeah,  ’bout right I reckon.  Dummy’s. Look at them.” 

We turned and did - as a  fading sedan with a  “MCCAIN / PALIN  bumper sticker drove by.   Coincidence?  But she continued.  “ See what I mean.  Typical.  Probably  the same bunch of crackers  and kitchen twits who thought Bush was worth waiting for too.  They got used to eating shit and liking it.  So..... it  makes sense.   Not hard to figure when you break it all down. ”   

“Wow, that’s a little harsh isn’t it?”

“Ouch!”  She slapped down a ketchup bottle that she’d been peeling the plastic off  the cap.  She squeezed at her fingernail and shook her hand. “Truth is harsh, that’s a fact.  Look, I popped a damn nail on that thing.  Second one and I just got these.  Sumbitch .”

I walked back  to my car never unraveling the mystery.  I never found out the “truth”.  I noticed the drive through was open at Wendy’s.  Bacon, egg and cheese breakfast biscuits were on sale for  99 cents,  the lane was empty.  A car was waiting for my spot.  I got out of there.

 *

 I pulled out of the parking lot less sure of things than I began.  I started off for Circuit City,  but gave up on the idea.  They'd have to liquidate at unblievable prices without me today.  I drove for no reason,  not long,  but I ended up in a shell parking lot next to a small drainage pond just off the highway.  The kind that catch the run off from the miles of concrete plastering the state.  A bearded guy, maybe 35,  dark with a baggy cotton shirt was standing near the place where the pond overflowed into a culvert....then it travelled on, pond to pond, until it reached the bay.  

He was holding a cast net in his hands,  ready to cast out over the water.

Just as I turned off the motor,  he slipped a piece of net into his teeth,  for balance, and then arefully cgathered up the rest like a ball gown.   I lit a smoke. 

He cast his net with single deep grunt,   sending it out across the water  like a an opening fan.  Then it was a giant nylon octopus.  It hit the water's surface and reached for the bottom.  

 It was an amazing thing to see.    In the time it took him to pull the bulging net through the winter- brown cat tails  and onto the bank,  the job was completed.  In five minutes,  in the middle of town,  a simple guy with a cast net - and maybe a little knowlege-   had 30 pounds of fresh talaplia wingling on shore.   

When he'd loaded them into plastic paint buckets and stashed them away in his truck, he was gone.  In the time it had taken me to finish my smoke.

And,  yes of course.....I wondered.  Of course I did.

What he may have made of all those people waiting for hours,  so patiently, so compliant and faithful..... for a free breakfast....just down the street?  

I guess it makes you think about how you spend your time these days.