June 19, 2013 @ noon
Perhaps it was the hour.
Perhaps it was us.
Perhaps we had entered the Twilight Zone.
Patty P. and I strolled across the plaza around noon today over to Books n Books for an any kind of strawberry frozen treat. Our local frozen yogurt bar was no longer there. Poof! It just disappeared like many yummy businesses in the area.
About three farmers market weeks ago, we had sampled some frozen something at Books n Books and we decided to return to quench our fancy .
Lately, I measure time according to the Thursday Farmers Market day just like my family and friends back home in Portugal. The farmers market fury arrived to the S.E. Financial Center Plaza for the first time this spring. Each Thursday, tenants come from all over downtown Miami to buy orchids, veggies, spices and farmers market type goods; we joined the celebration.
In any event, off we marched through the Plaza to get a taste of frozen delight. I was ready. Something strange happened from the moment we arrived at the shop. There was either an air of mendacity or miscommunication. Were were speaking a different language? Something did not feel right.
I happily requested, "Can I have two small cups of the strawberry frozen cup? This one is on me, Patty."
A tall Brillo haired man responded, " Sure, pick a juice and we can blend it for you."
I retorted with a doubtful grimace, "No, ugh, I didn't pick a juice the last time I ordered this. You see, it's this bright strawberry frozen creamy mixture in a cup and then you throw some blueberrys." I proceeded to explain.
The workers behind the counter hustled to and fro preparing what seemed to be two small portions; for a moment it appeared they understood our interpretation of our icy craving.
Finally, the girl behind the counter pours out into one large cup a smoothie; a liquid that she blended.
I blurted it out, "This is not what we had the last time we were here!"
Patty P. agreed and sported my same confused look.
We made a few comments back and forth until the burly guy probably tired of hearing our discontent chided, "I am the Manager and we have not served what you are suggesting for four months."
Four months? Not possible! I tried to behave, but I couldn't resist and suddenly I squealed," I am the customer and I had this three weeks ago - tops!"
Patty P. and I sneered like two spoiled school girls denied recess. For a brief moment, I venture to say, we even doubted ourselves. Had we been there three weeks prior? Yes, indeed, we had been there. I am still not sure what happened, but this might have been a warning suggesting:
We were traveling through another dimension, a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind. A journey into a wondrous land of imagination. Next stop, the Twilight Zone!