No, Really, I Am an American

Monday. It had always just been a day to me. I neither loathed it like some or rejoiced in it like others. It has always just been…Monday.

This particular Monday seemed especially dull. I was tired and at work, which is never a good combination no matter what job you have. I was eager for it to be 4:00……

For cryin’ out loud…it never fails. Fifteen minutes before your shift ends, someone comes into the restaurant for food. Then comes the question of how badly you want that tip. But I try not to be negative. I always smile and tell my co-workers that this is some sum of money I didn’t have before, even when it’s less than a dollar. (Money is overrated, by the way).

The customers are a father and son, or so it would appear. I tell them they can have a pick of anywhere in the restaurant considering it’s empty. I follow them to Table 23 and go into server mode. The one with the radiant smile and the cheerful tone of voice.

The dad seems appreciative of it and he orders two Oreo milk shakes and a Coke. A part of me groans. I suck at making shakes. Oh well. I tell him that it will probably be a while on the shakes but I should be about again presently.

As I’m preparing the shake ingredients, Emily walks in. She is ten minutes early. I consider taking especially long in making these shakes so the table will end up going to her. I consider it briefly and then I remember myself. It may be a crummy server job, but I have this tendency to take what I do seriously. I will do the right thing.

The shakes don’t look half bad. Woot. I bring them out to the father and son and they tell me they are ready to order. Without a moment’s hesitation or a lie of how another server will be them in just a minute, I take out my book and write down the order, smiles and cheer all around. Sincere smiles and cheer. It doesn’t cost me a thing to be nice.

Order’s in. Alex is cooking and Emily is clocked in. What timing on my part. Oh well. I still have half a piece of chocolate cake and some chicken wings to munch on. I’m good. It doesn’t cost me a thing to be nice.

I tell Emily what’s been done and what still needs to be done. I think vaguely about the fact that if things had been different and I could sacrifice my happiness, I could be her English teacher right now. It could never work.

The food comes up and I take it out there. The father is all smiles and the son is eager to eat. I ask them if there’s anything else I can get them and the father is very polite. I wish I had more customers like him.

I finish my chocolate cake, which had been sitting for a while and wasn’t quite as tasty as it had been when I first bit into it. But that’s okay ‘cuz it was free and it made the Monday worth waking up for.

I don’t think I can really wait anymore. It’s getting closer to 4:30 and no one ever really knows how late a table will end up staying. I ask Emily if I can transfer the table to her. I say something to make her laugh and the deed is done. She’s a good kid.

I am sitting and reading and waiting for my dad to come pick me up when I notice the father and son come up to the register. Even though I know it’s against the rules, I go and cash them out since Emily is otherwise detained. I smile and I’m cheerful as I put the change back into the nice father’s hands. He smiles in return and the customary pleasantries are exchanged. After all, it doesn’t cost us a thing to be nice. And besides, we mean it.

I return to the table to collect my tip. At first, I think my eyes are playing tricks on me. Then I panic because that’s just my way. Sitting on the table are two ten dollar bills. I brush them into my hand and scurry around the corner, hoping to catch the nice father even though I know he is gone. He must have made a mistake…he must have meant to leave me two singles not two tens!!

I run into Alex. He tells me I’m being silly. Take the tip. I’m holding the two ten dollar bills in my hand uncertainly. It’s way too generous in my head. I didn’t do anything overly special. I just did my job. It doesn’t cost me a thing to be nice.

I’m ashamed to think that the nice father might come back any second to tell me he’s made a mistake. I think this as I hold the ten dollar bills in my hand.

No. He was just a good and nice and generous man. I smile and hope he knows how much he has made my day. Yes, money is ridiculous and I wish it didn’t have to be so important to people. Yes, I was just doing my job and that should be satisfaction enough for me.

But damn, those two ten dollar bills in my hand certainly feel pretty cool. I hope some day I make someone else’s day that much cooler.

“You’re doing what tonight?”

My first night of freedom and I am expecting something very generic and very…well, “us” — watching Firefly or playing Settlers. I was not expecting this.

“It’s called Geo Chaching.” Grant continues to explain this concept to me and I admit, I am a little more than skeptical. “Well, uh, call me when you know more and what time.”

I hang up with Grant and consider my options. As much as I’m not sure of this adventure, I absolutely refuse to just sit at home and be a hermit. I’ve been bitten by Wanderlust yet again. My sister left me that very afternoon to take on Harvard and while I do not regret my decision to not teach right away, I want something. The more I think about that shiny something, the more irritated I become.

I distract myself with Gilmore Girls and await Anja’s charming Nokia tune…

I beat Grant to Chris and Mark’s which is really no surprise. I am still apprehensive but I’m still game. I used to be more reckless once upon a time, and while Natasha isn’t really in my life anymore to encourage such antics, I find myself to want a serious adventure once in a while. Besides, it’s been almost a full year since my motorcycle ride, it’s high time I have some fun.

Scott and Chris select an easy first cache for us to locate and we’re off. It’s not the same but I find myself getting more excited about this. Like we’re on a treasure hunt. We’re about to locate a highly coveted artifact that can completely throw off modern thinking…

“Okay, what are the coordinates again?”

Grant check the GPS and we’re off. The others speculate about the location, it could be behind the strip mall, or it could be somewhere thereabouts. Chris recalls more of the clues and we decide that it is more likely in the vicinity of the India House. I feel a little weird traipsing about with flashlights in a relatively barren parking lot, but the others are too enthusiastic. They are eager to find the treasure and nothing is going to stop them.

Scott holds his GPS and he is all but dashing to the location. I’m starting to pick up on the excitement, but the thrill hasn’t quite rubbed off on me. My apprehension is far more evident.

“According to this, the cache should be right about…here.” Scott is standing in the middle of the parking lot. Somehow, none of us are absolutely convinced that it is the right spot. We start to comb the area, shining our flashlights into the bushes and checking under garbage cans. We’re at it for somewhere in the neighborhood of fifteen minutes before we start getting frustrated. This was supposed to be easy. Maybe the answer is staring us in the face…

“I’m about out of ideas,” Chris declares. “I’m one of those instant gratification people.”

I nod to myself. I’m the same way. Then again, I’m still not as invested so it really makes no difference to me if we find it or not.

Grant calls Mark for more information. Maybe there’s something we missed…

We still don’t have a lot to go off and we start pulling at straws.

“Donkey cache,” Chris muses, “well maybe like Donkey Kong.” She points to the Cyber cafe. We try over there but to no avail. What is the significance of the Donkey? We start to wonder if it isn’t called “Donkey Cache” because we end up looking like asses.

We decide to head back and perhaps look up a different one. Chris suggests that we make a day of this hunting which the boys agree to, although it seems that Scott is highly disappointed that this first hunt is a flop. He of the four of us seemed the most excited about this prospect.

We pile back into his car, and much like him, I am also waiting for someone to shout, “There it is!” and turn around. But no one says anything. The energy has started to wane. So much for an adventure.

When we get back to Chris and Mark’s, the others are still determined to find out more about the Donkey Cache. I, on the other hand, am determined to find something for my stomach. While Chris returns to the site, I scavange the kitchen. Locating Pop Tarts, I return to the basement triumphantly just in time for Chris to list off some of the threaded discussions.

“Easy find,” she read, “Very clever. Found it while driving up…” Chris goes on and on about how effortless this cache is and we start to get irritated. Even me. The one who could have cared less. Now it wasn’t a matter of it being our first cache it was now a matter of conquering that which made it difficult for us. There was no way in hell we were going to be seen as chumps who couldn’t even find the most basic of Geo Caches.

She reads us more clues. “By the sign place, by the hair place, and it’s where this guy sits a lot.” My interest perks. It certainly narrow down the location.
The area between the BoRics and the Sign place isn’t much and there were benches in the vicinity.

The hour is getting late, well, for the people who actually have careers and it’s left to Grant, Scott and me to decide what to do. Scott is still eager to find the gorram thing and Grant is starting to show interest as well. I am still uncertain because for all that I want to figure out what it is about this thing that is so easy, I was also still hungry.

Oh well. So much for food. I ride with Grant in the Sebring and we head back to Schaumburg and Springsguth. We drive up and still don’t see a gorram thing.

“Maybe it’s been moved,” I suggest once again. I had thought and voiced as much the first time about, but the others didn’t think it was likely. But this time, we have more of an idea of where to look.

We split up. “You won’t have to leave the path,” I recall. So it has to be somewhere along the sidewalk! It has to! So why the ruttin’ hell can’t we find it? I distinctly remember the bench being mentioned and there are actually a few of them. I check about them, I foolishly try to lift the heavy stone seating, but don’t see anything…at first. While Scott is flashing the light around them I notice little crevices. I grab the flashlight from him as he wanders off to try something else. The crevices are just big enough that someone might be able to…

Goo. Bugs. I shudder. Okay. Maybe not this one. I try the others and find it as a big fat not so much. Well, there goes that brilliant idea.

Grant meanwhile is speculating about a broken off sign which I admit I also considered, but there’s supposed to be a log book, so how could it fit?

“Is that a hair place or just a nail place?” Scott asks, pointing the other other side. Oh hell. Were we still looking in the wrong place?

So we try along the other strip of sidewalk between the sign place and this other hair salon. I even pick up the Wall Street Journal that is fairly obvious and open it up. Nothing. Of course not. That would have been just too elementary.

I still have Scott’s flashlight. I look about the bushes and stare really hard at the boulders thinking perhaps there’s a shape on there that resembles a donkey. We’re starting to pull at straws again. Grant is still considering the broken off “No Skateboarding” sign and Scott is poking about the door stop to one of the stores. I’m about to give up again.

“Benches…” That clue sticks out vividly in my mind. I didn’t check this bench. Maybe…

I’m suddenly excited. What if this is the one? What if this is where it was all along? I purposefully stride towards the bench and drop to my knees. Yes, just like the other two, this one has the little crevices. I flash the light inside and thankfully instead of crawly little bits, I see something plastic. Like a hanger.

I pull on it and a tiny box follows. Oh my gosh…did I just find the cache? “Guys,” I call, “I think I found something!” It’s the treasure hunt feeling for me all over again. This artifact is going to satiate our desire for the hunt. Gosh it’s awful small. I open it before the boys get to me and find a tiny pencil, a rolled up strip of paper (aka the log) and something I didn’t know whether it was sanitary to touch or not. I unfurl the log and a sense of accomplishment fills me. I found the cache. Me.

“Good job, Jessi,” Grant beams. And Scott chimes in with equal congratulations. I swell a bit more. It is so rare that I hear such praise.

“Let’s take pictures,” Scott suggests. He pulls out his nifty…phone? Palm pilot? Technilogical do-dad and snaps a couple shots while I sign the log.

“Do we use our real names?” I query.

“No. It looks like usernames.” Grant reads down the list.

We use Scott’s and attempt to come up with a team name. Ridiculous. We don’t have anything in common between the three of us. We defaul and just leave as “PreMed Scott and Team.”

Once we put the cache back right where we find it, we laugh a little at the name again. “Donkey Cache”…hah. Yeah, I guess “Ass Cache” wouldn’t have had the same ring to it.

“What’s the name of that site?” I ask Scott before we pull away. “Geocaching.com.”

I repeat the name to myself with a little smile. Maybe I should sign up. Yeah, it’s pretty safe to say I’m interested. After all, it isn’t every day that I win.

The hunt is on.