Coffee, Bow ties, and Jammie Dodgers
Most people go through the monotonous motions of life; wake up, eat, work, eat, sleep, repeat. Quite boring, really. Unfortunately, I was one of those people. Living in the heart of Manhattan one would think I would have lived an exciting and interesting life. Far from it. Do not get me wrong, I have a few friends, but my work consumed my time like some soul sucking demon. What could such a demanding job be? Well, I was a writer. It might sound like all lollipops and unicorns but I possessed something quite dreadfully appalling. It stalked me day and night and was as charming and welcome as a seasick crocodile. I called this constant, deplorable companion 'writers block.' Each day I would agonize and toil over what to write. I felt that there was something there, at the edge of my mind and on the tip of my pen, patiently waiting to be given life. But I could never quite grasp it. So, seeing as I was not to be making any money off my writings anytime soon, I acquired a job as a barista at a dainty coffee shop 2 miles from my cheap apartment. It was nothing fancy, but it paid the bills that were stacking up. The months that I worked at that coffee shop I wished that I would meet mysterious travelers; they would tell me fantastic stories of adventure, danger, love gained and love lost…Don't give me that look. Anyways, maybe all of that wishing did pay off. I did meet a mysterious traveler, though in the most completely unexpected fashion. This is my story. This is how I met The Doctor.
Beginning like any other typical morning, I awoke at 5:00 am to my alarm clock's ear-splitting clamor. I contemplated defenestration of the offending object. Bleary eyed, I stumbled into the bathroom to start my morning ritual; a quick shower, a dabbling of makeup, and the donning of work clothes. Refreshed and ready, I meandered into my galley kitchen to prepare my ceremonial cup of coffee and honey-smothered cinnamon raisin English muffins. As the heady aroma of coffee permeated throughout my humble abode, I quickly scanned my newspaper; suicide, robbery, homicide, football, stocks, and, oh look, another murder. Tossing it aside, I sat on the wooden bar stool, quietly munched on mouthwatering muffins and sipped my scrumptiously delicious coffee.
Once finished, I gently placed the dirtied dishes into the sink, grabbed my coat and purse, and raced out the door at 5:45 to work the first shift at the café. Cool winds greeted me once I stepped outside onto the already busy streets. So absorbed was I gazing around me, not looking ahead of me, I ran smack into a something immovable, firm, and a deep blue. Groaning, I rubbed my sore nose and glared at the cause of my slight pain. There, in the middle of the swarming sidewalk, stood an 80's style, police phone box. With a roll of my eyes, I sidestepped the phone box and was about to continue on before something in my mind shifted and clicked. Glancing back to the curious object, I warily approached it. Upon further inspection I found it to be quite inconspicuous, a little too inconspicuous for my taste. I slid my hand down the smooth wood and gasped at the surprising warmth of it…. Like it was almost…alive….
"No," I internally chided myself, "that's impossible." Slowly, I perceived something else; no one else had noticed the phone box. Not a single soul on the street spared a glance at it. They even avoided it as if there was an invisible force field encompassing it.
"Odd," I inaudibly muttered. Inching closer, I was about to open the door when I suddenly remembered the time. Mentally berating myself,I turned tail and raced towards the café before the tide of cranky, early morning workers arrived to purchase their sacred cuppa joe, completely forgetting about the strange blue box. As the noon crowd dwindled considerably, I took my lunch break. Grabbing my purse, I strolled a couple stores down to a quaint, southern home-style restaurant where I decided to break for lunch. Near the diner, I noticed a peculiar man being hastily shooed out by a flustered waiter.
"How could you not serve fish fingers n' custard? Instead you have beans! Beans are evil," quipped, quite dramatically, the man in a British accent. With a melodramatic sigh, the young man turned and bumped into me.
"Oh, hello there. Quite sorry. Didn't see where I was going. I'm stumbling into quite the many shenanigans lately, it seems," the stranger babbled away.
"Shenanigans…. such a beautiful word…. shenanigans…," he trailed off in a mumble. Chuckling, I smiled at him. Something about this strange man dressed in a hipster-ishly tweedy suit and bow tie, drew me to him like a moth to a flame.
"Are you okay, sir?" I inquired. Snapping out of his reverie, he grinned and reassured me that he was quite alright except for the fact that the restaurant did not sell fish fingers and custard, which displeased him greatly. After 10 minutes of idle and somewhat random chatter I did something quite unlike me; I asked him if would like to have a cup of coffee with me.
"Oh, I would love some coffee. Though, I don't know if I like it. New mouth, new rules. Oh! Will there be jammie dodgers? I think I like those. Again, I'm not sure..." insistently twittered the stranger. Internally face palming at my forgetfulness, I introduced myself and offered a hand. Warily, as if he had never shaken hands before, the stranger gripped mine and then announced,
"I'm The Doctor."
The Doctor, as he insisted he be called, possessed a childlike countenance of that of a 12 year old. Beaming and laughing,he appeared happily carefree and never in one place for long. That was until he thought no one was looking; his movements would still, and his eyes would wander along with his mind, not in the present. He looked so incredibly weary, as if the weight of the universe were burdened upon his shoulders. Then there were his eyes. Oh, his eyes. Something so very old and so very sad lay hidden beneath those eyes. If he noticed anyone staring at him during those moments The Doctor would flash a reassuring smile and return to his exuberant, childlike quirkiness.
Apparently, since the man had never tasted coffee before I decided to order him a mocha, simple and sweet, and a chai tea latte for myself. Settling down in the chosen booth, across from The Doctor, I handed him the selected drink. An ear-to-ear grin decorated his face, as he swigged a gigantic sip, and then, with bulging eyes, he turned and spewed it all over the floor. Shock colored my face and audible gasps filled the café, as a cardinal sin was witnessed; the wasting of a $5 cup of coffee.
"Gah! I most definitely do not like coffee! Were you trying to kill me? This is toxic," The Doctor lamented. While he ranted on the poison called coffee my stunned expression slowly altered into a small smile and quiet chuckle. It soon morphed into full grin and hiccuping giggles. Seeing my amusement, The Doctor, too, smiled and laughed.
As my lunch break neared ending, The Doctor ordered some jammie dodgers to-go, much to my surprise, as I was unaware that this cafe even sold jammie dodgers. Then he turned to me and spoke,
"It was a great pleasure meeting you, dear friend. I enjoyed myself so very much. It was very good. So very good. But I fear I have been in one place for far too long. The Pond-." Halting mid speech, a forlorn expression rapidly swept over his face at the mention of those last words, but as quickly as it came, it vanished. With a final hug, The Doctor left, as if he was never there. Blankly staring at the empty seat I noticed that he had forgotten his jammie dodgers. Snatching the bag of goodies, I raced out the door to catch him. As I pushed through the throng of pedestrians I caught site of his tweed clothed back. Crying out his name, I ran to him. He froze and I crashed into him.
"Oh gosh! I am so sorry! It's just you forgot your jammie dodgers and you mentioned how much you liked to try 'em' apologized, out of breath, "and I thought it would be a shame if you didn't get to eat any," I continued to ramble, as I gathered myself up and aided the now laughing Doctor. I handed him his bag of goodies, and soon caught his infectious laugh. After a bout of laughter we said goodbye yet again, and then The Doctor did something quite unexpected. He opened the door to a blue police call box...The same one that I ran into earlier!
"I can't believe I almost forgot about that," I admonished to myself. The Doctor waltzed inside the box, turned, winked at me. and closed the door. Just as I was about to knock on the door to question what in sanity's name he was doing, a bizarre whirring noise filled the air. Then the police box began to fade in and out! Gasping, I stepped back and watched, captivated, as the blue box disappeared.
After a few moments I glimpsed about the bustling street and saw that no one had seen what happened! Again, it was like there was some sort of invisible shield that had encircled the blue phone box, protecting it from prying eyes. Regarding my watch, I noticed that my lunch break was up. With haste, I sped back to the café to finish my shift. I couldn't wait to get home and write about the vanishing blue box and the strange, sad-eyed man in a tweedy jacket and bow tie, who hated coffee and possibly liked jammie dodgers.