Icejacked

The Service Station

I knew that, as soon as we entered any new environment, Leddicus would bombard me with questions, but my need for coffee overcame my concern about getting bored with explaining the whole world and his dog to him.

“We need to find somewhere to eat, keep your eyes open for signs with a knife and fork on.” Even looking for signs was an interesting idea for Leddicus.

My assumption that this was going to be a big adventure was not wrong. It’s amazing how many things we do every day and take completely for granted. We don’t even think about them. Leddicus got out of the car and stood a little away from it, waiting for me. I walked toward him, pointed my car key at the car, and pressed the automatic lock button. The car dutifully let out a peep and flashed its lights at me.

Leddicus looked startled. “What did you do?”

“Just locking my car.” I passed him the key and showed him how to press the buttons for lock and unlock.

We could have been there all day. Leddicus was like a fascinated young child locking and unlocking my car.

“Come on,” I said. “I need coffee.”

We moved no further than the entrance to the service station, which automatic doors controlled. Leddicus was a little in front of me, and I thought he had been shot as he jumped in the air and let out a yelp as the door automatically opened. He stepped back quickly, and the doors closed then. Of course, he stepped nearer, and they opened again. I thought we were never going to get inside as Leddicus moved backward and forward, watching the door open and close.

“This is amazing,” he said. “How does this work?” I pointed out the control sensor at the top of the door. I was sure Leddicus was unsatisfied with my brief explanation, but my urge for coffee was getting stronger by the moment.

We were finally inside, but I began to wonder if I would ever get my coffee. There were far too many distractions. Most service stations had game rooms quite close to the entrance. This one was no different, and Leddicus was drawn like a magnet to the flashing lights and electronic sounds. He wandered from machine to machine. A youngster chasing terrorists, blowing up buildings, and shooting people occupied one. There was a lot of noise and many explosions. Leddicus’s mouth hung open as he watched transfixed. Further on, a spotty youth was squinting intently at the screen, gripping the steering wheel, and swinging it rapidly back and forth to keep his car ahead of the pack and on the road as he raced around the circuit. Leddicus pushed his hand through his hair and shook his head in confusion.

In a stage whisper Leddicus asked, “Why would someone drive a pretend car when they can drive a real one?” Fortunately the youth playing the game was completely engrossed and didn’t hear the comment.

We finally agreed to go and get that coffee for which I was so desperate and something to eat. The restaurant area of this service station was serving food buffet style. We picked up a tray and began to move along the counter to make our selections. It wasn’t particularly busy. Leddicus was in front of me, and I could see his eyes were nearly popping out at the huge choice: cold and hot meats, salads, vegetables steaming in big bowls, salads of every description, and potatoes cooked every which way. I took a couple slices of ham, some good Swiss Emmental cheese, and a little green salad. Leddicus, the poor guy, did not know what to do and just stood there looking from dish to dish.

I finally asked him, “Would you like hot food or cold food?”

“Hot,” he said simply.

I grabbed a plate for him and began scooping up cottage pie, green beans, and chips. I then got us a drink each and headed to the checkout. Leddicus watched fascinated as I paid for the food and the girl chatted to me in Italian, punched in the cost of the food on the till, and gave me the right change, which I then put into Leddicus’s hand. He studied it closely.

We finally made it to a table, and I took a sip of that long-sought-after coffee. We did not talk much over the meal. The food, displays, and surroundings distracted Leddicus too much, and his eyes darted everywhere with childlike curiosity, rather like a baby crawling across a carpet and carefully examining every piece of stray fluff.

Refreshed by lunch, I cleared the table, and we headed toward the exit. As we were about to leave, I thought it might be fun to give him a turn on an arcade game. I sat him in one entitled “Formula 1 Grand Prix.” He looked a little reluctant and dubious, but I carefully explained what to do and told him nothing would actually happen because it was only a game. I wasn’t sure he believed me or understood, but I dropped in a coin, and off he went, gripping the steering wheel and biting his lip in concentration as he steered along the video roadway. Once he got the hang of it, there was no holding him back. When the money ran out and the game was finished, he was like a child.

“I like driving this pretend car. I want to do it again!” He grinned from ear to ear.

I fed some more coins in, and off he went. After the second run, he wanted to keep going.

“Leddicus, I’m sorry. We really must go.”

He looked very disappointed as he slid out from behind the wheel and followed me. We went through the automatic doors, much to Leddicus’s amusement. I did wonder if I were in for another of those childish games, but he meekly followed me to the car. As we approached the car, I felt in my pocket for my key fob and pushed the button to open the doors.

“How did it know we were coming?” he asked.

“What?”

“The car? How did it know?”

I pulled open the passenger door and ushered him in. “Let’s drive. I’ll explain on the way.” I sighed.