Meals were important to Henry but breakfast was perhaps the most important. If he didn’t get breakfast he became grouchy. And since Sunday mornings were the highest profile part of his workweek it was a bad idea for him to skip breakfast on those days.
Jennifer usually made him eggs or pancakes on Sunday mornings, but Henry was not a cook so he made himself a bowl of cereal. He didn’t mind – he liked cereal. However when he took his first bite this morning he immediately spit it back out. He grabbed the milk carton and found the expiration date. It was two days past.
“Who forgot to get milk?” Henry grumbled to himself. He rummaged through the cupboards. The easiest thing he could make was oatmeal but Henry didn’t particularly care for oatmeal.
He did like fast food, though. His wife discouraged drive through breakfasts, but then she wasn’t here and she hadn’t thought to buy milk before she left so really she had nobody to blame but herself. Henry set out for the nearest fast food joint.
His heart sank when he saw the long line of cars at the drive through. He looked at the clock. Normally he liked to get to the church at least half an hour early so he could gather his thoughts before he had to lead the service. Today he would probably have to make do with only twenty minutes or so.
Now Henry had preached several times on the strange way that getting behind the wheel of an automobile turned otherwise polite, tolerant people into impatient, angry jerks. But just because he preached about it didn’t mean he was immune to the phenomena. So when the guy in the car in front of him didn’t notice that the line had moved forward because he was talking on his cell phone, Henry felt his blood pressure rising.
He tapped his horn quickly a couple times. The other driver waved an apology. Henry noticed he had a tattoo on his forearm. “Punk kids,” Henry thought, then immediately felt old. At fifty-five he was very sensitive to the “old man” thoughts that seemed to cross his mind with growing frequency.
When it was finally Henry’s turn he ordered a double sausage-and-egg biscuit, hash brown bites, and orange juice. The so-called fast food was not quite as fast as usual this morning, perhaps explaining the long line. By the time Henry finally received the bag he figured he was only going to make it to the church with about fifteen minutes to spare. Fortunately he could eat while he was driving.
He pulled up at a red light and noticed with mild surprise that the car in front of him was the same one that had been in front of him at the drive through. And the yahoo at the wheel was still talking on the phone.
Henry took advantage of the stop to get his food out. He was unhappy to discover that the teenager at the drive through had forgotten his hash brown bites. Oh well, too late to go back now. He unwrapped his sandwich and took a bite.
A car behind him tapped its horn twice. Henry looked up to see that the light had changed and cell phone tattoo guy hadn’t noticed. “Yeah, pay attention,” Henry mumbled at the distracted driver through his mouthful of sandwich. People who talked on cell phones while they drove were a menace.
Henry pulled into the other lane so he wouldn’t be behind the jerk anymore. Using his left hand to hold the breakfast sandwich and steer, he retrieved his juice from the fast food bag with his right hand. The juice had a foil cover over it. While Henry was pulling the foil back with his teeth, he inadvertently started to drift across the dividing lines.
A long honk startled Henry. He veered back into his own lane, but dropped his sandwich in the process. It bounced under his seat. He looked over and saw that the horn blower was none other than cell phone tattoo guy, though he was no longer using the cell phone.
“Yeah, you’re one to talk,” Henry muttered. But he was more concerned about his lost breakfast than the rude driver. One bite of sausage-and-egg biscuit and a little juice weren’t going to get him through that morning’s service.
Henry pulled into the left turn lane when he reached Elm Street. To his amazement the same guy was in front of him again. And he was back on that cursed cell phone.
The light turned green. A handful of oncoming cars passed and then the turn was clear. Only the guy on the cell phone didn’t turn.
“Oh that’s just too much,” Henry growled. Since there was no traffic, he gunned the engine and pulled into the oncoming lanes to turn in front of the guy.
Half a block later he noticed flashing red and blue lights in his rearview mirror. His day just kept getting worse. While the cop was writing Henry a very expensive ticket for careless driving, cell phone tattoo guy passed. He caught Henry’s eye and just laughed. Henry ground his teeth. He didn’t think it was wise to swear in front of the cop.
The police stop consumed most of Henry’s remaining time cushion. He arrived at the church with barely five minutes to spare. But the growling in his belly would not be denied so he used three of those five minutes to go to the social hall, which was set up for coffee hour. Someone had brought donuts – a breakfast food Henry liked even better than double sausage-and-egg biscuits. He grabbed a powdered donut and shoved half of it into his mouth with his first bite.
As he was chewed someone came up and tapped him on the shoulder. He turned to discover church secretary Tammy Billings. Standing behind her was none other than the tattooed cell phone guy.
“I’d like you to meet a new visitor to the church,” Tammy said. “This is Billy Kent.”
The two men just stared at each other for several moments. Tammy looked from one to the other in confusion.
Billy regained his composure first. “Nice to meet you,” he said in a southern drawl and extended his hand.
“Likewise,” Henry replied through his mouthful of donut. They shook hands and Henry swallowed. “Well, I better get into the service,” Henry said.
With Henry’s belly reasonably full the service went off without a hitch. Billy soon became a regular member of the church. And the two of them never spoke of their encounter on the road that morning.
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