The Girl and the Biker

Last Sunday evening, S and I were trying to get away for a quick beer at the local around the corner from where he lives (in Oakville, Ontario). His wife T said we could go, but we had to take their daughter, four-year-old L, with us! She probably thought that might dissuade us from leaving. But S and I looked at each other, shrugged, got the child to put on her shoes and the three of us took off. (Aside: it is a family restaurant really, but with a nice bar.) Parked ourselves at a booth at the bar and ordered beer, wings, fries and a juice for L.

Next to us… a big, surly biker. Stolidly eating a huge salad (ok, I know there’s something very wrong with that picture), washing it down with an absolutely humongous glass of beer. And not making eye contact with anyone. Not that we could tell, because he hadn't taken his dark glasses off even inside the bar.

I notice little L looking over at the biker out of the corners of her eyes once in a while. I could almost hear her thinking, "Why is this man not saying hello to me?" She is a little garden sprite of a thing and most people (strangers and all... at the mall, on the street, in the park, wherever) are usually cooing over her in a few seconds. So I suppose she was baffled by the fact that this man was completely ignoring her. Finally, not being able to stand it any more, L scoots over on the bench toward him, and goes in a loud voice, "Hello!" And you should have seen the smile break out on the biker's face, like the sun suddenly shone through clouds. In no time, the two of them were exchanging pleasantries, while S and I finished up our beers.

On the way back home, I tried to explain to L that she should be careful about talking to strange men at the bar. But I don't think she got it.

I'll try again in about 15 years.