Rob and I have a great lunch

Rob and I were about to get in his car and escape into air-conditioning when he pointed across the street and said, “mobile car wash.” Behind a white Subaru, a panel van was parked, with a green garden hose snaking out of its open back doors. A young man had finished the wet portion of the job and was now wiping the Subaru down with a chamois cloth.

I’d driven to Rob’s work so we could go to lunch at Kilroy’s, home of the World’s Greatest Hamburger. Unduly influenced by this claim (a self-serving one, yes, but supported by the Food Network), I had decided to compromise my dietary and moral principles.

Inside we were greeted simultaneously by two young women, one femme, the other butch. The latter, short and short-haired, looked daggers at the former, as if to say, "what are you doing, you officious pain in the ass.” She elbowed the longhaired woman out of the way and took us to a booth and handed us big menus. Thus began an intense relationship with Tiffany (according to her nametag), and my sense was that by the end of the meal that had I proposed she would’ve accepted. I still might go back.

I ordered the basic Kilroy burger, keeping it simple, and I was indeed impressed. Classic, toasted bun, medium-rare half-pound patty, just the right amount of charcoaly flavor, red onion and lettuce (no tomato=no salmonella, not a bad idea), mayo on the side--all this added up to a satisfying hamburger experience. For a side I had the choice of baked beans or cole slaw. When I asked Tiffany for a recommendation, she paused as if this was an important question, as if she was trying to decide what was best for me, knowing me as she did, then answered “cole slaw.” I said, "ok,”and our eyes locked for just a moment. Rob and I also ordered a basket of shoestring fries.

We ate and talked about Harry Potter, Catholicism, and the pleasures of legal contracts, among other topics. When my water glass was empty, Tiffany brought an icy pitcher and set it down with a smile that seemed to say, ”there’s more where that came from.”

When we stood up to leave I made a point of seeking out Tiffany, who was taking an order at another table, to say thank you. Her smile was wistful, as if she too was glad to have met, yet sad that things were coming to an end so soon. The longhaired waitress tried to horn in from across the room, calling out “thank you, guys,” but I ignored her.

Back at Rob’s roomy office I sat down in the client chair while he went on his computer to get me directions to a public library branch. The fierce air-conditioning made one yearn for a light jacket. Rob looked professional and competent, dressed in white shirt and tie, sitting behind a desk spread with stacks of legal documents pertaining to various cases. I wanted to stay and watch him be a lawyer, but he said he doubted I’d find it entertaining.

At dusk, after Rob came home from work, we drove up to Red Rocks for a hike; Peyton Manning came too. With the sun down, the warm air was almost comfortable rather than hostile. We walked up a small canyon, past small reedy pools of water that Peyton splashed through with obvious pleasure. Phainopepla, dark, crested birds, and sparrows moved about in the small willow trees. The rock is indeed red, a deeper more astonishing shade of blood red in the fading light of dusk. The rock rose up in great bulbous masses, like hardened blobs of wet sand. We climbed upwards over stone slabs until nearly dark, then turned and looked out over Las Vegas to the east, where yellowy lights were coming on in the vast sprawl.

On the way home we got take-out at Viva El Taco!, one of the many excellent Mexican food stands located in gas station convenience stores. None of that Taco Bell Express or Subway bullshit. On the counter sat big, freshly re-stocked trays of pickled carrots and sliced radishes and cucumbers; I filled several small plastic cups with these treats, then waited patiently while a young man in a red baseball cap turned sideways made my burrito. Rob bought a twelve-pack of Tecate, and when we got home and spread out the food on the coffee table and opened our beers and put on The Shawshank Redemption and made Peyton Manning lay down, I was happy and contented.