Helen's Cup

Sitting at the counter of the Breakfast Club I see the sun rising above the Ocean Plaza throwing yellow white beams into my eyes. Just a I take a sip of coffee, Chris sneaks up behind me and pokes a finger in my ribs making me spew the elixir of life onto the counter. He keeps walking while I describe his family lineage out loud. Settling back down, I peer through the large plate windows and see the people hovering waiting for the Club to open. Women smoke as they flip through the various Real Estate Magazines. Men sit in pick up trucks watching the signs that say "Closed", anxiously waiting for them to flip to "Open". Couples hold hands whispering to one another as they form the first line of the day. The wait staff put in their orders. The chefs, who have spent the last three hours prepping, sigh ... and then begin to cook for them. Scrambled eggs and mushrooms ... three over easy ... French Toast ... A lady clasps her hands over her eyes and presses them to the window trying to get a look inside but she has a hard time seeing inside. It is a warm summer morning but the inside of the Club is cold until the grills heat the entire restaurant from over use. They will be used non-stop from opening until closing. "She's Gonna Blow Captain," my son Jeremy once told Bruce as he buttered toast and Bruce picked up plates for customers. Bruce busted out laughing and hugged Jeremy then dashed off. That was a long time ago but ... the routine of the Club remains the same. The lady with the clasped hands sees Whitley and I sitting at the counter drinking coffee. We appear to be regular customers and we can see her wondering, "How in the hell do they get to be inside while we're waiting out here?" The fact of the matter is that we are not regular customers. I am the Chaplain of the Breakfast Club and Whitley is ... I don't know what Whitley is. He has a bicycle that gets drunk. His bicycle has been known to influence my bicycle to get drunk. Our bicycles have influenced the entire staff of the Breakfast Club to get drunk. There is nothing regular about any of us. We are one ... great big happy totally dysfunctional family who love each other dearly because ... we're not related. Nancee throws her arms around me and gives me a hug. Whitley throws a dollar into the cup that finances Helen's vacation. Helen is the founder of the Breakfast Club and Jodee Sadowski's mother. Jodee is the one who made it world famous. Every morning Whitley and I make a contribution to her travel fund rather than actually paying for our coffee. There is nothing regular about us. "You look like shit," Phil says to me. Phil is eight feet tall with red hair and we love each other. His wife Katie is pregnant with their first child. Apparently, though there is no evidence, I assisted Phil in getting totally wasted during the Beach Bum Parade, which of course, I deny. "Thanks," I reply. "You do too." "Oh I know," he smiles. Then Caroline crawls into a booth and flips the signs. The Breakfast Club is now open. A mad dash occurs for seats and eats. "Time to cross the bridge," Whitley says as he stands, throwing his dollar into Helen's cup. The entire restaurant explodes in activity. Everyone is busy and it won't stop until the signs are flipped again. Standing, I throw my money into Helen's cup. "Bye Kiddies," I say as I walk away.Helen's Cup "Bye Mike," they all yell from the midst of their busyness. Outside, the sun is higher above the ocean. The sky is blue. Seagulls squawk and birds singing. Another day in paradise has begun.