He was tall. Broad-shouldered. A big man – the kind of person you might expect to see in a plaid flannel shirt with an axe-handle saddled up by his neck, held there by a muscled-up forearm. Instead, he had on yellow headgear and a fluorescent vest.
The Head Hard-Hat.
This is the guy who would have answered “Yes, I am,” to any workman who might have objected with, “You’re not the boss of me.” (Or more likely, “Usted no es el jefe de mí,” which is probably the reason the project is moving along so quickly. Very few shovel-leaners ’round here.)
No doubt about it. This hard-hatted hulk was the boss-man.
On his face was a grim expression that relaxed just a little when I shook his hand. Never did smile though. I imagine he thought himself a little like the uniformed officer stepping on the widow’s front porch with news of a family death in Afghanistan. I wanted to say something that might take the edge off.
I knew what he had to tell me. It would have been easy enough to cut in with, “I’ve been watching the progress and I know the drill,” but – in the current context – it likely would have sounded smarty-pantsy and might have been taken the wrong way. Trying to save him the descriptive effort might have sounded to him like pouting, grief, and objection on my part. It’s a fine line.
Pouting is not an option.
Said it before – the sooner they get started, the sooner the sidewalk and street renovation will get completed.
He wondered if I had noticed the reddish chalk line down the center of the sidewalk. I had. That’s the sort of thing that gets my attention when I look out the door. He explained that – beginning next Thursday – that little piece of work will be the line of demarcation. (Actually, he didn’t put it that way. He explained the line showed the edge where the sidewalk will be removed. I thought I just said that.)
Straddling the line will be a chest-high plastic orange construction barrier; on one side, my guests will navigate, single-file, from some point near the Commercial Street intersection.
On the other side will be extremely large and noisy yellow machines equipped with tank-treads or Volkswagon-sized black tires. Mechanical elephants with long trunks equipped with a yard-long steel spear, designed specifically to reduce streets and sidewalks into rubble. And the noise. I can’t tell you how I’m looking forward to that.
The sooner it begins… (yeah, yeah.)
In the meantime, the lights are out again and downtown BA has become Dark City. For the first time in more than a year, tonight offered parking spaces in front of the shop. The Main Street Tavern has had their door barricaded, with access from the side door on Commercial Street. I wondered if they were even open. It warranted an investigation, strictly for the purpose of this post, you understand.
The fries were tasty.
The bar counter had a number of available chairs. But – and this is a Big Butt (nah, it’s a normal but) – the tables were pretty much filled. I guess the street lighting is so much better off-Main that folks are parking the lots and sidestreets, and the clientele is tenacious enough to work through the construction junction.
I’ve got porchlights, but no porch. The bulbs offer enough light for several car owners directly in front of the shop. You can check the image to see how night-vision goggles might come in handy for any ambling down the street. Fiesta Mambo has their generator powered lighting up and running. (El restaurante cuenta con iluminación exterior brillante. Go figure.)
Thursday is the day. November the new deadline for completion. Don’t panic.
I’ll draw a map and hold the flashlight. Come visit!
McHuston
Booksellers & Irish Bistro
122 South Main Street, Broken Arrow OK!
