MOUNT PLEASANT, Iowa – Each day, Im saddled with the weight of existence: when Dave Sorensen passes through each morning at 6am before his opening shift at the welding company and slams down his five dollar bill on me to settle up; when Connie Randolph stops in on her lunch break, leaning on me with both elbows while daydreaming and staring idly at her chicken salad platter; the clank of a chipped coffee cup; the splatter of ketchup. These things I have to put up with every day.
But nothing in my years of service prepared me for a pair of Clarks brown leather lace-ups stomping over me with the incomparable energy of a dad at a tailgate.
Yes. Im the countertop at Central Park Coffee Company in Mount Pleasant, Iowa. The shoes and the energy? They both belonged to Beto ORourke.
Camera crews and intrepid reporters from all over the country had set up in anticipation of his visit to our little establishment. As they rested their tripods and camera cases and frayed notepads on me, spilling coffee and cake-crumbs, I said to myself: ok, they dont mean any disrespect. Like you, theyre just doing their job.
Then he walked in.
The crowds parted like they do for the mayor on bingo night. As he approached, I saw him eye me with the laser focus of old Dennis May, after hes clocked out at the electric company, when he just really needs a dang slice of pie.
First, he put his hands on me, testing my weight. The cheek! His hands were moist from the shaking of 100 hands, but strong, too, from two years spent gripping the steering wheel of a Dodge Caravan while livestreaming around Texas.
Then it hit me – oh boy. Alright. Yep, hes going for it.
His ostrich legs swung up and around and he landed on me with a thud. I thought a skater would be more light on his feet, but I digress. He gazed down upon the crowns of the crowd – comprised of 80 journalists, six local business owners, and a kid who won a contest – and launched into his address.
“Now, I want you to know I didnt prepare a single word of this speech. Literally didnt give it a moments thought. Just jumped right up here,” he broadly gestured at me, “and started speaking to you folks straight from my soul.”
He paused a moment, then asked the crowd, “You feel that? Thats my soul leaving my body and absorbing into yours. Theres some greater force in this room – and its going to unite this country like we havent seen since… the past.”
I nervously eyed the glass pastry-case as Beto danced across me, excitedly yelling things like “bipartisanship!” and “come together!” One wrong turn, and those bran muffins would be kaput, I thought. We cant be wasting fresh carbs in this economy.
For the first few minutes of his spirited romp, I tried to be patient. After all, should this guy get elected, I could say the President of the United States stood on top of me… for some reason. That Whattaburger residue from his car floor, it was being smeared all over me in the name of democracy! A true thrill for a simple countertop in Iowa.
But after a while, it got old. The wild gesticulating. The pacing. The sudden drop into a low crouch with the intensity of a youth pastor. The sweat droplets peppering my surface. It was bad enough that the usual lunch crowd couldnt come in. Dennis May would have to wait for his pie. Connie Randolph wouldnt be able to get near her chicken salad.
I know they say Dont Mess with Texas, but honestly, dont mess with an Iowa countertop either. When the show finally ended and Beto lowered himself back down to the masses with nothingRead More – Source
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