Flirtin’ with the waitress

—“You have brown eyes,” I said to our cute little waitress (server?) in an Altoona restaurant.
She was no more than 17 or 18 years old.
What I failed to say is “I notice because we’re all wearing masks.”
That takes the edge off what could be perceived a flirt, sort of a “how ‘bout it, honey?”
I was in Altoony with my brother and another friend to chase and photograph trains.
Mainly to introduce my friend, a retired bus driver like me, to train-chasing.
It’s a shame pretty young girls quickly become jaded by loathsome lotharios.
My brother and my friend were already doing a bang-up job of talking to her, so I let ‘em. Just talking is what I’d do too — my brown-eyes observation was just an aside.
Women, girls, ladies love talking.
LET ‘EM!
I’m glad my brother is already talkative; I’m getting there 70 years late.
If we get stopped by police, I let him do the talking. If I say anything the police get defensive. He has the hang of it, and I’m only getting there.
To say she has brown eyes (and I prefer blue), tells her I like what I see. This makes cutie-pie feel good = more likely to talk.
Something similar happened a few years ago at my nearby town park. I was walking my dog, and a pretty lady approached walking her dog.
We talked a bit, then “I see gray hairs,” I said.
That made her very happy. That meant I’d checked out her hair, and liked what I saw.
It was only an aside, but she wouldn’t leave.
I’d made her feel really good.
Finally after about 20 minutes, I had to break off our conversation. Our dogs were going nuts. “What’s all this yammering about? We have sniffing to do!”
I decided to give our waitress a similar out. “We gotta let this poor girl work,” I said.
She threw up her hands, and glanced around the restaurant. We were the only ones there.
She wouldn’t leave. We talked quite a bit more. Jabber-jabber-jabber between she and my brother.
Let ‘em talk! Give ‘em a chance. They love jabbering to someone they don’t hafta worry about.
“Flat as a board!” My friend said later.
“So what!” I exclaimed. “She was fun to talk to. All she has to do is smile at me and I'm done.
And mask or not she was smiling; her eyes told me.”
And let ‘em know you think they’re pretty; i.e. you enjoy their company.
Again, it’s a shame that waitress will quickly become jaded by the “how ‘bout it” crowd.

• For 16&1/2 years (1977-1993) I drove transit bus for Regional Transit Service (RTS) in Rochester, NY, a public employer, the transit-bus operator in Rochester and environs. My heart-defect caused stroke October 26th, 1993 ended that. I retired on medical-disability, and that defect was repaired. I recovered well enough to return to work at a newspaper; I retired from that almost 15 years ago.