I had a noon lesson one day in the winter, and at the end, Mr. Galimir asked if I would like to go to lunch. I was a bit surprised, but excited as well at the chance to talk to him outside of the lessons.
“So, Nathan, where should we go?”
I had assumed he would have his favorite places around Curtis, and frankly, my usual eating spots were very economical to put it kindly. I hadn’t had a nice lunch in a restaurant around Curtis before. Who knows why, but I began listing the places I did know. “Well, there’s McDonalds, there’s–”
“Yes, McDonalds. We will go to McDonald’s.”
I stared at him, waiting for his inevitable laugh at this obvious joke. But he just stood staring back at me. “OK, let’s go to McDonald’s,” I said incredulously.
I hadn’t remembered that it was a cold, wet, blustery day, with the precipitation hovering between rain and snow. As we prepared to step out the front doors, I remembered. I took a look at his umbrella, which dwarfed him easily. “Maybe I’d better hold the umbrella for us.”
The wind hit us like a solid wall, and it was all I could do to lean into it and try to shelter us for the three-block walk. The sleet was coming in sideways, and Mr. Galimir was trying to hold onto his hat with one hand and my arm with the other. I tried to sound optimistic. “Just two and a half blocks to go!” I shouted.
“No!” I could barely hear him through the wind. “This is no good. I will be blown away!”
I looked around quickly and saw Houlihan’s, which actually would have immediately followed McDonald’s on my list. It was a much better choice anyway. I steered us in, and once we were out of the weather, he gave me a look that said I had created the wind and the rain.
As Mr. Galimir had another lesson in less than an hour, we needed some food soon. A very cheery waitress showed us to a table, and as soon as we sat down, Mr. Galimir assured her, “What do you have to eat? We are in a terrible hurry!”
The waitress momentarily lost some of her cheer, but at a smile from me she realized that the bark was worse than the bite. “Let me tell you about our specials. We have…”
By the time she was on her second special, Mr. Galimir was fidgeting and looking rather helpless. Finally he interrupted. “I understand, you have many things. But I want a salad.”
“Would you like a side salad or a dinner salad?”
He looked at me as if she were speaking Russian, and repeated, “A salad. With vegetables. No meat.”
“A dinner salad,” I contributed.
“Great!” said the waitress. “What kind of bread would you like with that?”
In Mr. Galimir’s mind, the salad was already in front of him, and any further questions were delaying that moment.
“Toast!”
“White, wheat or rye?”
“Rye!”
“And what kind of dressing for the salad?” she continued, still smiling beautifully.
Mr. Galimir looked up at her, the pained look of a man who has endured twenty lashes and has just been told that he must suffer twenty more.
“We have house, French, Italian, ranch, Russian, thousand island and blue cheese.”
She was not relaxing her grip on the whip. I could see that we might shortly have a scene on our hands. But instead Mr. Galimir smiled.
“You know, young lady, I am sure that you know how to bring me a salad. I would like to eat a salad. Whatever bread, whatever dressing, it doesn’t matter.”
Blessed silence. Scene averted. Then, “Would you like that on the side?”
As Mr. Galimir raised his head once more, this time without a smile, I quickly said, “On the side. And a burger for me, medium well, fries and two waters.”
The smile on the waitress was as constant as the wind outside. “All right fellows, I’ll have that out as soon as I can!”
As she turned, Mr. Galimir’s voice chased her into the kitchen. “And hurry!”