Saga of the little old lady wearing pink at Panera Bread.

Secret agent problems
I wouldn't say that

The following running commentary took place over the course of about an hour on Facebook as I sat on the outside patio of Panera Bread in Santa Monica, California…

10:13 am

An old lady at my favorite Panera Bread in the world (Santa Monica) just _winked_ at me and asked me to keep an eye on her computer. I said sure and smiled. I think we’re going out now. I don’t know how to break it off. This might get a little messy.

10:16 am

I do like the fact that she thinks I’m trustworthy. Of course, I am freshly bathed and I smell of peaches.

Ok, not peaches. I smell like “manly man scent” from the body wash at the gym. In fact, maybe that’s why she likes me so much.

Must explore this further…

10:20 am

I find myself strangely attracted to the fact that she is an old lady, but she has a laptop. She also appears to know what she’s doing.

And she knows how to handle a hot cup of coffee.

I think this relationship may be going places.

10:23 am

I do know, if we kissed, she’d get that lipstick all over me. That is some serious red lipstick right there.

She also knows how to eat. Besides coffee, she has a cup of water — which she is drinking right now, a bagel, and a croissant.

Oh, and that’s a Macbook.

I am intrigued by this woman.

10:24 am

She’s also wearing a hat, and a pink — is that a hoodie? — yes, that’s a hoodie, and black knickers… or whatever those things that only go down to your knees are called [Capris, I’m told they’re called capris].

I think she just caught me checking her out.

And again.

I might’ve creeped her out just then.

It might be over already.

Oh, my heart.

10:27 am

She might be having trouble booting her computer.

Perhaps I can offer a little technical support.

No wait… it’s working now. Of course it is. It’s a Mac.

10:31 am

She chews her food slowly and deliberately. I like that in a woman.

I never knew that before — but this woman is amazing.

10:35 am

I like her glasses. I can’t help it.

10:36 am

I don’t know though. If we ever went out to eat, we’d start at lunch and by the time she finished, it would be dinnertime.

Or nap time. Or maybe that comes after she finishes her bagel, but before she starts on her croissant.

Ah! That’s why she has so much food!

10:38 am

A black man sitting in the table in front of her just said out loud, for no apparent reason, “I’m in love.”

I’m feeling ya, buddy. But if you’re talking about my lady, I saw her first.

10:39 am

Black man sips his water and then smells it.

I am not familiar with this custom.

10:44 am

Black man left. And has now returned with one of those paper sheets you put on public toilets.

I am totally totally confused now.

10:45 am

No, sorry. My mistake. It’s just a 8’x11′ sheet of tissue paper. I still have no idea where he got it or how that comes into play.

Maybe he’s going to write a love poem on it?

I’m already working on mine.

‘Lovely old lady in pink…’

That’s as far as I’ve gotten. I don’t think it’s going well.

10:50 am

In all seriousness, black man was just asked by management to leave because “It’s almost lunch time and he’s not a paying customer”.

I actually feel bad for the guy, but I’m secretly glad that it means the old lady is mine again — and there won’t be a fight. Because he could’ve kicked my ass.

I’m also glad I have an empty cup of coffee next to me — “paying customer”.

10:55 am

She just took her hoodie off.

But it’s not what you think. Someone else asked her to watch the table left vacant by the black man for her. So she put her hoodie on it.

I helped her. She helped other people. This is good.

It’s a lovely day.

10:57 am

She takes very small steps when she walks. I see this as she grabs her hoodie from the table.

And she is hard of hearing.

11:05 am

She just finished her last bit of food.

No, wait. She’s walking around packing her laptop, but she’s still chewing.

I like that she’s able to do more than one thing at a time.

11:10 am

And thus, the old lady has left. But I am watching her take her baby steps to the parking lot…

Where she no doubt drives something big, like a Hummer. Or something hip like a whatever’s hip.

And I watch her go.

As she walks to the parking lot.

A thousand little steps.

Maybe 1,400.

Annnnnd… she’s gone.

Good-bye old lady with the pink hoodie. I heart you.

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