Floyd Kelly

It was Tuesday lunchtime at the bustling Bellevue Square food court. I was about to enjoy my spring roll when I saw a man in a tuxedo walking through the food court. He had a nonchalant demeanor. He repeatedly approached customer’s tables, leaning in, and asking, “Excuse me, but are you going to eat that?”

I watched him. He didn’t care if some plates were full and guests had not even started eating. He didn’t care if some plates were empty with crumbs—oh no, he wants to eat that too! I even saw him eye a stray French fry under a table.

The whole scene was utterly bizarre. I was halfway through my soggy spring roll when a huge man nearby had just finished his triple cheeseburger with fries. He leaned back, rubbed his big tummy, and let out a gigantic and horrendously sounding rumbling belch—everyone heard it.

The tuxedo man heard it and stopped dead in his tracks. His eyes lit up. Without hesitation, he marched straight over to the table. He hovered over the belching champion. The tuxedo man cleared his throat. “Hey, you!” he blurted, then quickly smoothed his tone. “You! Excuse me sir, but are you going to eat—the air?” He even mimed scooping up the invisible belch.

The big man looked at the tuxedo man, then at the empty air, then back at the tuxedo man. His face went from satisfaction to pure confusion. Just then, a piece of my spring roll—propelled by a sudden burst of laughter—flew out of my nose and onto the table. The tuxedo man, without missing a beat, swiveled his head towards me and yelled, “Hey you! Are you going to eat that?”