A Brooklyn Kind Of Moment

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Yesterday, I had a long leisurely breakfast with Moody Son. It's Regents week which does not mean anything to anybody who has never gone to school in New York State. Regents are those exams that a student must pass in different subjects in high school in order to graduate. Moody Son was test-free yesterday, so we walked over to Donut House on Court. It is no fine cuisine by any means. Just your ordinary greek diner with three grey haired old men manning the griddle and the cash register. Occasionally, one of the three will yell something in Greek to the other. Very authentic. I had not been there for years and it has neither improved nor declined. It just is what it is: a greasy spoon.
While we sat at the counter eating our breakfast, the telephone next to the register rang. The tallest and youngest looking of the Greek boys answered the phone. It was apparent that someone was placing an order for delivery. It was also clear that there was a language barrier. A lot of repeating, of guessing: "Mayo. No Mayo? What? What you say? What Bread, Rye? What You Say? Wheat? Whole Wheat?" ensued.
I was starting to feel bad for the poor soul on the other end. Donut House's tall Greek was difficult to understand in person. Over the phone, it must have been even harder. I was musing over that fact, when he hung up, the order written down on his green diner order pad. He shook his head, obviously annoyed at the person who had been on the other end just moments before. He muttered:" Some people speak English no good."
A Brooklyn kind of moment.....