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Sweet dreams are made of this. Part one

This morning began with Buddy was having an argument with the sultry voice of google maps. She wanted to lead him astray.

It was 5am driving around the streets of Regina with Buddy beginning to curse the vocal direction of Miss Google Maps as he drove in search of Highway One amidst the Tim Hortons, cemeteries and big truck washes.

Their relationship had been souring since Calgary when she decided to go silent when he was weaving his way out of the Calgary suburbs to find the local Chevy dealer.

Big blue sky

Cursing her and chanting that he did not trust her decision to send him west, he combed the streets for a human to tell him what to do.

In the parking lot of gas station he found a young man getting is work gear ready for the day, while his directions were concise he had a very pronounced stutter that coupled with Pipers barking because he was attempting to lean into her car left Buddy still lost.

Trusting is own senses as he repeatedly told Miss Google Maps lead him to the first sighted little green maple leaf sign but he still needed a human voice to reassure him in the right direction, so he pulled into a non-chain convenience store.

Bustling into the store he asked the owner for that reassurance he carved as he waved me in to get coffee in our reusable mugs. While Buddy cleaned the windshield, I was to get the coffee and we would be on our way.

There was no coffee in the pots in the little coffee corner but the proprietor assured me it would only take a minute. As the coffee as slowing drip down into the large jug and Buddy came in to hurry me up, the shop keeper explained he did not open until 6 am.

With two coffees we were off with the relationship with Miss Google continuing to unravel. Like the two-timing boyfriend playing for sympathy I heard all about Miss Google foible’s.

Down the highway we went with Miss Google pouting in silence. We pulled into a place on the highway with a pink motel called Sweet Dreams and a little white building that was a café where some old guys in plaid jackets and high-waisted blue work caps and baseball caps greeting us with chuckles at Piper in her googles. As Buddy made amends with Miss Google, this time I was directed to see if could get breakfast sandwiches to go.

Inside the café the two older men sat and at the other table several people including an older weathered biker sat, all with empty coffee cups. I leaned into the kitchen to ask the gentleman of Asian descent about the breakfast sandwiches. He did gestured for me to speak to his wife. She was dipping napkins under water and brushing her face as she answered my request.

Instantly she was inspecting the kitchen and beginning to sound like she was having a heated argument in Chinese with her husband in the kitchen. I sat down at a vacant table as all eyes of the other patrons with their paper napkins and empty coffee cups focused on only me.

The sounds of escalating communication in the kitchen continued as I saw bread being pushed into a toaster. I began to make small talk to the two older gentleman in the baseball packs asking if they were regulars. The toast came out from the kitchen and was stopped at the unset table sitting five weary looking types under.

A younger Asian woman came in and after poking her head in the kitchen to listen to the audible argument began working in the front. She gathered a mug and stuck 4 knifes into it (there were now at least five at the biker table) and plunked it down at the table.

The coffee cups remained empty. The patrons for the most part sat in passive silence.

Buddy came in to see how I was doing getting the order, and the two older gents came alive asking about the electric car.

One container was ready at the cash register .I paid for the one package from the two sandwich order.

We left the café with the egg and bacon stuck between toasted bread as the other patrons sat with their empty cups.

We pulled out from the Sweet Dreams Motel onto the highway again with Miss Google coyly suggesting we make a u turn into head-on traffic and the Annie Lennox song began to play in my head.

where do you really want me to go

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