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Theft by Finding - David Sedaris

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February 8, 1985<br />

Chicago<br />

There was a man at the IHOP tonight who had on two hats at the same time. The base was a<br />

stocking cap, and over it was a red floppy thing a woman might wear to a garden party. The waitress,<br />

Mary, ignored the guy at first. Then she took his order but made him pay in advance. He wanted<br />

coffee with his eggs, and when, after ten minutes or so, he still hadn’t gotten it and asked politely<br />

when it might arrive, Mary snapped at him and said that she was busy, OK? It made me uncomfortable<br />

to watch her be so rude.<br />

Had she had trouble with him in the past? Did it have anything to do with his two hats?<br />

February 16, 1985<br />

Chicago<br />

Tonight I saw police and an ambulance on the corner of Irving and Sheridan. There was a man<br />

lying on the curb, facedown in the snow. Had he been hit <strong>by</strong> a car? His shirt and jacket were up above<br />

his waist and the crack of his ass was showing. Maybe he was dead. I don’t know for certain.<br />

February 24, 1985<br />

Chicago<br />

Mary at the IHOP has been on a rampage lately, throwing people out left and right. Tonight two<br />

men walked in and she pointed to the door, saying, “Beat it!” One of the guys was thin and the other<br />

was obese and wore a V-neck sweater that wasn’t long enough to cover his stomach. The thin fellow<br />

wore glasses and had been thrown out before.<br />

“You can’t discriminate against us,” he said. Then he asked for Mary’s name.<br />

She refused to give it, and he said he knew the owners of all the IHOP restaurants in America. He<br />

said he’d write a letter and she could kiss her job good-<strong>by</strong>e. Adios.<br />

Mary said that would be fine <strong>by</strong> her, and when the men took a step closer, two cops seated at a<br />

rear table intervened and told them that they had to leave.<br />

“Yeah,” Mary said to the larger of the two men, “get the hell out of here, fatso.”<br />

July 10, 1985<br />

Chicago<br />

The meal on my flight back from Raleigh was a kind of Oriental barbecue. Across the aisle were<br />

two men who complained about having to sit in the back of the plane. They said it was unfair that the<br />

niggers got to sit in the front. One of the men had three bourbon and waters. Before we landed, the<br />

stewardesses used pincers to hand out hot towels that smelled like they’d been steamed in a<br />

dishwasher.

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