Monday, May 7, 2012

Last Chance for Onion Rings

So I just came across this literature assignment I did last year. We were supposed to write in a somewhat crowded area, what we were experiencing and sensing...seeing/smelling/hearing/feeling...etc. I had forgotten about the assignment so that's why it's at a fish fry.

Mainly I'm posting this because I felt-
  1. that I needed to post something
  2. lazy.
so I was trying to scrounge up something from my computer that could pass for remotely interesting...

---(over a year ago...)

The laughing of the knights, the sizzling of the fryers, the cool breeze carrying the distinct scent of cod to my nose while throwing my recently brushed hair across my face as I briskly made my way up the wide cement path to the building. I had two things on my mind: I am slightly late and onion rings. My exhausted feet were walking on rocks, and yelling at me to sit down after all the previous walking at the mall we did. Good thing I’m a supervisor* today. No need to do much walking. I felt pressure on either side of my eyes. Why didn’t I take an ibuprofen for this headache? I caught sight of my brother’s dark brown hair, and caught sound of his laugh near the kitchen.

Letting him know I was here, I approached him, whetted my lips, and requested those delicious, warm, fried, craved onion rings. They were gone. With disappointment of not tasting what I had longed for the past two weeks, I reluctantly worked my way around the large round tables, to the back of the dining hall. I seated myself at the cluttered manager’s table, while being greeted by Caron’s kind smile. I, along with three other teen managers, began scribbling and scratching out names, while puzzling how to resolve the situation of four scheduled, needed, but absent, volunteers. The piano of Beethoven, or was it Bach’s? quietly, yet noticeably, sang through the speakers and into the background of voices.

 I looked up to anything but the cure to my headache, to see a blinding sweatshirt. Whoa! I squinted my eyes. Recognizing the sweatshirt which I had been greeted by earlier that morning at physics, I swiftly stood up and gave the glowing figure a hug. “Emmie!” I excitedly welcomed my friend whom I had not seen for hours.

 The fried fish was finally finished. Standing in line with friends, I reached down for a tray while listening to Jordan sarcastically demand I use one. Ewww! My left thumb felt a sticky, putty substance. I looked down to find a small, white, wad of gum on my plastic, green, marble-patterned cookie-sheet, which may have actually been popular fifty-some years ago. I reached for the napkins, handing one to Emily, and keeping four of the square paper cloths for myself. “Baked or fried?” my ears observed the friendly voice of the knight. Unhealthy fried, of course. “One fried, please, and some of those famous, homemade chips.” Passing the mushy, green broccoli, my taste buds begged for the refreshing, red coca-cola that was sweating from its frozen state. Balancing my meal on my unclean tray, I returned to the crowded managers’ table.

CRUNCH! My crispy chips were salty. POP FIZZZ I sipped my carbonated drink. Taking a bite of the freshly fried fish, my eyes glanced onto the floor beside my chair, where I saw my homeschooled friend’s notebook. SIGH, well isn’t that a surprise, I completely forgot about my notebook and literature project. With permission, an empty page waiting to be scribbled upon was torn out of the green notebook, and I wrapped my fingers around the coveted mechanical pencil. I see fish, taste fish, smell fish, hear fish…just kidding. A line of hungry diners began to form at the front of the dining hall near the kitchen. My finger pressed the round button on my cell phone which read OK, as I checked the time. 4:02pm. The crowd is getting here, but where are the other volunteers?

 I lifted my face to see the face of a second friend, with partially red hair, carrying two large containers, one which was labeled ‘sour cream’. I didn’t know Alaina was coming. As she approached, the distinct aroma of vinegar encountered my nose, and it was apparent the misleading plastic jars held pickles. My neon companion welcomed our colorful companion. Alaina was disappointed. Just as the crispy onion rings disappeared without me, she had been on a fruitless search for nachos.

                 During the dinner, I waited on a familiar, friendly, elderly couple, and was humbled from my ‘supervisor’ position, to cleaning filthy trays similar to the ones I had been so disgusted with earlier. I did these simple tasks until the temporary restaurant was closed for the night, and the time had come to prepare soapy water, assign cleaning jobs to countless number of questioning volunteers, and scrub sticky tables. My sore hands held the distinguishing scent of bleach, which contributed to my returning headache, along with the swarming youth whom finally could release their three-hour bottled-up energy.

I positioned myself at the front of the hall, observing the entire room. Most of everyone had worked efficiently, and the dining room duties were completed. I reached up and pulled off my mandatory, gray baseball cap. Although I could feel the horror my hair displayed, after being bound by a band and shoved under the hat, it could finally relax on my shoulders. That was it. The last fish dinner had been finished. With a bulky box of supplies in my arms, my body pushed against the glass doors of the building, my feet walked down the same cement path I traveled earlier, my eyes focused on the car I could rest in, and my nose indulged in the fresh air. I fell into the ‘shotgun’ seat, and turned up “I’m Comin’ Home” on the radio. I’ll have to get my onion rings next year.

*we have a volunteer system with managers and supervisors. if you didn't figure that out yet.

sad thing is...I totally forgot about the onion rings this year until the very last fish dinner (again) when a knight (of Columbus...not in shining armor. too bad. that'd be really cool to have fish made by tin men with swords.) walked out of the kitchen with a plate...bearing... THE LAST ONION RING!!

...oooh...I'm totally getting a "Lord of the Onion Rings" idea... no. I really shouldn't even go there.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Feedback? Love it like a panda? Want to strangle me with words? TYPE HERE.

Random Posts