This is the second episode of my friend Frank Loudin’s Teezer’s Twists series. Teezer’s was Orcas Island’s beloved coffee and goodies store on North Beach Road (it was across the street from Mijitas), and is now a place in our memories and in island history. Frank and his wife Jannie frequented Teezer’s and loved sipping their coffee and watching the daily comings and goings there while shooting the bull with locals. Give Frank a hug if you see him; he just lost Jannie.
Teezer’s Twists: Public Works
It is a rainy morning at Teezer’s. The rain quietly started sometime in the night. It is one of those light but persistent rains that locals don’t really notice until somebody points it out.
“Looks like rain,” some wise guy will say when two meet at the post office door with water dripping from the ends of their noses.
“Uh huh,” the other guy will reply. “I heard it is supposed to be this way all week if you want to believe those hot shots in the office down at KING 5.”
Folks are jammed inside Teezer’s. The regulars are split up because some high schoolers have the front tables and a perfect stranger is all by himself at the back, hovering over his laptop, sipping from time to time on a tall exotic espresso. He is oblivious of the hard looks he is receiving from the regulars.
“Another day of Orcas sunshine,” someone is bound to remark.
We’re supposed to give some unique reply, but most of us have run out of clever rejoinders having to do with Northwest rain.
Out in the front patio a couple of umbrellas lie open like grounded space ships. Two labs are circling for an advantage that only dogs understand, and a smattering of the very first red leaves have fallen to decorate everything. It’s autumn and the cool September rain is as welcome as the empty parking spaces down the side streets. This kind of rain doesn’t really affect anything; the air is still warm off the Sound and windshield wipers just smear the dead bugs and dust.
Inside though, the lights seem a bit warmer and the hot drinks seem a bit tastier. Everybody knows everybody, even if they don’t recall their names just at the moment. They know where they work and which committees they are on and just who is apt to ask for a donation or a commitment of some kind.
“One mocha grande!” Carolyn shouts.
Three people jump up and go to the counter.
“I forget what I ordered,” Terry says.
“You can have this one.”
“No, you take it.”
“No, you were first.”
The two friends try to out-nice each other.
“One mocha grande!” Carolyn calls, putting up another drink without looking up.
The third person takes this one and the two break into snickers.
When Eric comes in and asks, “How is your back?” Five people start to answer.
“I’m doing as well as any other terminal case could be expected to do,” Bob replies.
“Do you all go to the chiropractor or just tough it out?” Frank asks.
“I go to yoga twice a week and do some at home,” Jannie adds.
“I do erotic exercises,” one of the women says in a low voice.
“Erotic exercises?” three of the men gasp, almost in unison.
“Do you have any pictures?” Frank asks.
”Do you do them alone or do you have a bronze Adonis to give you aid and instruction?”
“She means aquatic exercises. Don’t get too excited or you’ll have an attack.”
“Nuts! I thought we had a good thing going there for a while,” scoffs Bill.
“Yeah, I was trying to envision erotic exercises for geriatrics, but I guess that’s better left alone.”
There is a pause in the conversation as all eyes shift to the corner window. A public works pickup is sitting in the intersection. Three guys in yellow slickers get out and place three orange cones in the street. One studies a piece of paper and points while the others spray orange paint stripes on the pavement. Then they gather at the back of the truck, light up cigarettes and watch while traffic works its way around them.
“What are they up to?” someone finally asks.
Here comes the rumor mill.
“Looks like they’re going to dig up the street,” Jannie submits.
“Maybe they’re going to build a traffic diversion wall to keep people from getting into Teezer’s,” Bill says.
“It’s in the shape of a cross.I’ll bet the Christian School has something to do with it,’’ Frank’s imagination is stretching again. “Or maybe the KKK is having a meeting here tonight.”
“No. They’re going to put in a pedestrian overcrossing there so you can go direct from here to the post office,” someone adds.
“They’re going to put in a bike lane for John so he won’t get lost between here and the Fitness Center,” Bob says.
“This building has been condemned and that is where it is going to fall the next time it thunders,” Steve says.
“It’s a navigational device for flying saucers searching for intellectual life to abduct and cart off to Krypton.”
“They’re really looking for Hooters.”
The three yellow-slickered men finish their cigarettes then tromp inside and up to the counter for coffee.
“What are you guys getting ready to do out there with all the orange markers?”
“Oh, just patch some cracks, I guess.”
“How dull,” Pat grunts. “We thought maybe you guys were actually going to do something we could watch, you know?”
Mark steps around the counter with his bar rag in hand.
“Last time they did that, a garbage truck came along and ran over their cones.”
“Yeah, and I’ll just bet they didn’t stop to pick them up either,” Eric adds.
The high school girls come in and the conversation pauses as each of the old guard is reminded of previous conversations on the matter. The women frown and the men pretend to appear uninterested. The girls twitter for a while and leave with their chosen lattes.
“Well, we’ve got things to see and people to do,” Frank grunts.
“You suppose the mail is up yet?” Bob asks.
They all gather up their cups and saucers, crowd over to the bus tray, speak their goodbyes and troop out into the rainy day. One of the orange cones is lying on its side and the fresh orange paint is running into the crack that needs to be repaired. The rain is falling a little harder, and Turtleback mountain fades into the mists, while Mark puts on a new pot of Starbucks and wipes off the tables.
Teezer’s is now inside Island Market, which is carrying on their flavor traditions, and the tables are open for gathering.
hey Frank,
meetcha @
Teezer’s…