I went to the hospital this morning, to visit a friend there. I had his room number and found it without too much difficulty. A sign on the door indicated that I should put on a surgical mask before entering, but once masked, I found that his room was empty. I asked about his whereabouts at the nurse’s desk outside his room, but she had no idea where he was. Finally, she suggested that I check out the cafeteria. I found him there, having coffee with a mutual friend. I got a cup too and we had our own version of the old guys’ table.
On all our road trips, we have frequently encountered the phenomenon of the old guys’ table. Be it the local greasy soup or the neighborhood McDonalds, there is usually a table in the back where old men, who are friends, regularly gather to exchange news, views and generally chew the fat. So, that’s what we did. I got to recount my travels this year and shared the above photo. It was a fine time, if not for the unfortunate circumstances that brought us all together.
My friend appeared to be doing well and was already planning his escape. I gathered though that when he was first admitted, he hadn’t been doing quite so well. I was glad to see him feeling much better and so quickly too. As we parted, we all agreed to get together again. Later, I went for a bicycle ride and as I pedaled, I remembered all of the great times that we had had together.