Local Mops
"There is a suggested cover of 5 dollars," said the lanky man standing at the doorway to the bar, his mop of blonde hair flowing from under a trucker hat. His stance was hesitant, and his footing unsure, but he stood his ground. I replied, "Okay cool," because that is always my first response to being asked for anything less than 10 dollars. I don't do a double take. I just assume that I owe them money from a previous life. I considered the request more carefully while I tried to scan the Venmo QR code the door blocker had pointed to. Why was he blocking the door for a cover that was merely suggested and not enforced? What if I walk away? What if I don't pay? There was plenty of time to ponder because the Venmo link kept failing. With every moment that passed, the man became uneasier. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other while I stood there glued to my phone, refusing to make eye contact.
Behind him, I could see that the bar was nearly empty. I had agreed to meet my friend there, and a local band was due to perform. Why don’t they just enforce a cover of 5 dollars? Why does it have to be suggested? I would be a willing customer paying for a service if it was enforced, but If I refused to pay a suggested cover, I would be a bad person. If I walked away from the suggested cover, I was not walking away as a customer saying no to a purchase. No, I'd be walking away as a greedy gentrifier unwilling to support the local arts.
I refused to make eye contact. I had faced a similar dilemma earlier in the day. You see, Austin is not like other cities when it comes to homelessness. In places like San Francisco, you encounter people strung out on drugs. But in this town, if you idle your car at a freeway intersection, you are confronted by men wielding mops. They approach you like they are about to break the windshield, and before you have anything to say about it, the mops soaked with gutter water plant right on your windshield. With each industrious sideway swipe of the mop, the windshield you last washed several months ago becomes dirtier and foggier. You could wave your hands to say no, with the same wave motion you do at a concert when the performer suggests you put your hand up, but this does not stop the mop. It has already made contact and will not stop until every ounce of puddle water has been squeezed onto your windshield. There is a suggested cover for this service, which you can avoid by refusing to make eye contact.
Finally, the Venmo link went through, and I wished I had paid the local windshield mopper instead.