From the window

(Originally published on 04-09-2008) (Thick description) I went to grab a bite at McDonald's since I had some time to kill, and I settled into a spot right next to the window at one end of the restaurant, looking down at the sidewalk from up there. Since I had already eaten and still had time to kill, and didn't feel like reading, it occurred to me to start writing. What I'm transcribing now is more of a partial description of a moment in time than the three-page draft it took up. As an observer (and commentator), a brief thick description (or one that tried to be).
It's 10:12 PM. I'm at the end of McDonald's killing time. And from the window I watch down below. A chubby guy in a suit walks by, shaking his head. And a guy playing the sax. And now he's dancing. Another guy with a cap and an Argentina t-shirt. A father walked up with a kid and left a coin for the sax player. And the sax player did some kind of mini-dance, I don't know what. A big bald guy sat down at the table that just opened up in front, and the blonde woman with him says, "No way! No! No way!" Right then he stood up, left, and came back. He went to get salt. A blonde woman in leggings walked by and the sax player took a bow, and now the song is over and he reads what's on his music stand. The cleaning crew is going all out, I'm done eating and killing time. The sax player started up again and now he's dancing too. He's by himself, but he plays and dances, and every now and then a couple walks past. Meanwhile, I'm killing time. Here comes a leprechaun. Oh, no, it's the security guard dressed all in green. He's a little green man. It reminded me of "Lamento Boliviano." The McDonald's TV is turned off, and the table I sat at, although well-located, is dirty. Someone took a picture and I saw the flash. The woman up front screamed "No!" again. And now that a lot of people are passing by, the sax player is stiffer than a post. Twenty meters away from the sax guy, there are two guys with duffel bags and backpacks and a woman talking to them; the young woman is dressed all in white and has her back to me, she's a brunette with a braid. And the sax player disappeared—no! there I saw him, he went to pass the hat at the tables of the restaurant across the street. The couple at the front table stood up and left. I was saying that my table is dirty and clean, and clean and dirty. A kid came over to clean it. No! Now that I look closely, it's a freckled woman who looks like a kid, wearing a cap that hides her hair. The two skinny guys are still talking to the woman. One is leaning against the planter and wearing a flat cap. It's hot, it's a day when everyone is in short sleeves. But the crazy guy sitting two tables away from mine is wearing a wool cap that says "silver." The cash registers are empty except for two girls who are buying and placing their order. One girl has black boots with studs and leggings like I've never seen, in all kinds of bright colors and red, white, and gray Hungarian patterns, and I can't tell what else. The table, I don't know what's wrong with it, it feels kind of sticky, filthy, they wipe it down with a rag, but I don't know what the hell that is, it's still there, it feels scraped, something is stuck on it. A kid in a stroller passed by, pushed by his parents, holding something in his hand that is a fluorescent blue color, some strange toy. There's a muscular pretty boy right in the middle of the place between the tables, who, with one hand in his pocket and talking on his cell phone, walks a few meters and then turns back on his steps. And now a young couple walks past where he lights her cigarette as they walk. Their outfit is great, Adidas nylon pants, a sweater tied around the neck, and a white Al Capone-style hat—simply great. Surprise move. Down there, the brunette in white sits on the planter and crosses her legs, and the guy who was standing sits on a chair and pulls out a guitar. The brunette stands up, opens the guitar case, and steps back—essential! With a closed case, there wouldn't be any room to leave coins. The sax player isn't coming back. Now I'm surrounded by two empty tables. A while ago the two girls at the table on the left left. It's 10:37. The sax player is back and biting his nails. The murmur of the place can be heard. Everyone talking and some bursts of laughter. Now the guitar guy plays, and in the restaurant downstairs a couple is waiting for their food with the wine already poured. The McDonald's register is slammed. I don't know where so many people suddenly came from, but a line formed that reaches all the way to the tables. They're all young people. And the guitar guy keeps playing. The sax player is leaning against the planter. Someone momentarily stopped to listen to the guitar guy, chewing something and nodding his head to the rhythm of the guitar. It's the shoeshine guy; in his other hand, he's holding his little stool and box. The sax player puts away his notebook and lowers the music stand. Everything indicates he's going to leave. The brunette in white lights a cigarette and stays sitting on the planter with her legs crossed. A young girl in a red t-shirt just cleaned the tray, and she dropped the tray right inside [the trash can], haha, there she managed to get it out—it's unbelievable how she threw it in, but in the end she got it out quickly. The sax player left. Now I just saw the guy in the flat cap who was with the brunette and the guitar guy; he's playing further down, with something smaller than a guitar, I don't know what instrument it is. He's playing with his gray flat cap on. 10:47, still time before I have to leave. I see something over there. It looks like "El Chavo," yes! It's El Chavo! He's a living statue on top of a small stool, someone just put a coin in and he did his little hand scribble. Then he went back to normal. He's standing still. A couple just walked by, both wearing Boca [Juniors] jerseys; the striking thing is that the kid is wearing a red and white cap—it's not River [Plate's], but it's half red and half white. Unbelievable! And the guitar guy keeps playing. The place isn't full, but it isn't empty either, rather, I'd say quiet. And now a little girl appeared offering to sell flowers, a rose, to the people passing by. She didn't have any luck with that attempt. Now the little girl is gone. And now a vendor walks by with some multi-colored lights, and then he stopped further down and with his other hand whirls a noisemaker. Now the noisemaker guy got next to El Chavo, and I see that now El Chavo is sitting against his pole, hugging it. And the guitar guy keeps playing. Two cameramen cross by. And now a rollerblader passed by in a red jacket and black cap. A couple at the table in front. The girl talks loudly and swallows her consonants. Ugh! There she said "No!" at the top of her lungs. I don't know what's wrong with them and the word "No," it seems to be in style, now again. A tray dropped and the sound was heard, and the rollerblader down there started spinning around, he's rollerblading—well, here he comes, he crossed between the light poles. El Chavo is still sitting and the lights guy whirls his noisemaker. The brunette hurried across. She's passing the hat at the restaurant right down here, and the guitar guy keeps playing. Actually, I don't know if she's passing the hat because I can't see it, but everything points to yes. Indeed, now I see her and she's doing that. Up here, a policeman just showed up talking to the security guard. Not the leprechaun, another one in black and white. The guy in the flat cap stopped playing and is sitting down. 11:05. El Chavo just stood up. Good thing he's a living statue. He's already changed his posture three times in a few minutes. There are fewer and fewer people left. I'll be leaving in a bit. The guitar guys finished playing and are packing everything up, and El Chavo is still standing. I'm leaving.