Orlando International Airport, 7am. I’m foraging for food for my husband near gate 25 at an “upscale” cafe that serves cinnamon rolls. I’m 3 away from being served.
At the head of the line is a well groomed gentleman, plain clothes, nothing to write home about, who had just ordered a coffee and a danish. He’s told the amount for his purchase and quickly digs into his nicely weathered satchel and produces a can of mixed nuts.
He hands the can to the woman. “You will find the money in here,” he says. Straight faced.
She hesitates. She looks at him. He looks at her. The can in his hand doesn’t waiver. She takes the can. She opens the can.
It’s filled with dimes.
As she dumps and counts, the man places his fingertips on his eyebrows and looks downcast.
In my post-Disney, post-vacation depression, I don’t know if this is annoying or awesome.