Ahhh, fall, the most elusive of the seasons in Los Angeles; and yet each year, many Angelenos do their best to pretend we have autumn in a city of ceaseless summer.
Meet Meeeegan, a vocal frying, box-blonde clad in multiple layers and doused in an inescapable, sickly sweet candy perfume scent. After she unwrapped herself from her scarves and sweaters (89 degrees outside, mind you), she and her comparatively normal friends sat in my booth. When asked if she was hot, she replied, "No way, I'm literally making fall happen!"
She responded aggressively to my greeting, widening her eyes and smiling at me like the witch who wanted to eat Hansel and Gretel. "Like, what are your 'syoops' today??"
"Our soups?" I replied. "Well we have three. We have tomato basil..."
"OOOH DO YOU HAVE TORTILLA??" she interrupted.
"We have tomato basil," I continued, "chicken noodle, and vegan chili."
"OOOH VEGAN CHILI," she repeated blankly.
Before ordering entrees, Meeeegan had many questions about our tea selection. She didn't believe me when I said we didn't carry chai tea or pumpkin spice, so I had to pretend to go look in the back before she finally decided on peppermint. She was putting on quite the production in terms of fooling herself into fall.
Her friends ordered standard lunch fare. Meeeegan selected a bowl of the vegan chili and "a big side of your yummy homemade bread." We've never, ever made homemade bread, another request for which Meeeegan made me double check with the kitchen.
The entrees arrived, and Meeeegan summoned me over.
"I literally never complain about anything or send things back," she informed me like everyone else who routinely complains and sends things back, "but this 'syoop' is kind of, I don't know, it's not really that flavorful. Like, I wanted it to taste like fall, d'you knowwhat I meeeean?"
"Did you want to try one of the other soups?" I asked.
"Yah, maybe the chicken noodle? Is it yummers?" she asked
"So yummers," I replied.
Alas, the chicken noodle soup didn't satisfy her fall desires, either. "It's a little too chicken-y, d'you knowwhat I meeeean?" she said/asked.
"I don't," I replied. "How about the tomato basil?"
"Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm," she deliberated. "Does it taste a lot like tomato?"
No it tastes like coconut cream, you dumb basic bitch.
"You know what, it does?" I replied.
"Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm," she deliberated. "I'm actually not that hungry? Maybe I'll just do a yummy coffee drink. Can you all make flavored lattes??"
And with that, I ran through the large window, onto the street, and into oncoming traffic. My soul left fall-less Los Angeles and I'm writing this from the great beyond, a world where no one tries to fake their way to fall.