I slide smoothly into the booth at the Thunder Grill, request
a Double Harvey Wallbanger that Carlos the waiter first hears
as a Double Hardy Bullfinger. . . a Rubble Hootie Buzzburger. . .
a DaDa Hitty Juicebunker. . . Good -- finally il comprende. I slurp
the iced licorice-tangy, orange-vodka-Galliano mix and order up
a double serving of Gazpacho and a bowl of Chili Con Carne after
a hard day's edit, vow not to walk into any walls as legend claims
Harvey the Surfer once did; a VA-bound train rumbles beneath us;
it's the Thunder Grill all right tonight, and I'm chilling in Union Station
four days before the 9/11 anniversary. Any more craziness to come
down the pike? Guy sits at the bar in orange sports jersey, shorts, sox;
instead of a sports hero's moniker pasted on his back: "3. Jesus Walks".
Christopher T. George