Bagels for the man with no name
Showdown at Western Bagel
A Western Bagel store on a Sunday morning is a tenderfoot rodeo. The lines are long and unruly. The tenderfoots come for the bagels, and they make tenderfoot mistakes like ordering chocolate chip bagels and tubs of strawberry cream cheese. But that’s their problem. My problem is tenderfoots can delay my bagel consumption by up to an hour. That’s why we ordered ahead online. And by we, I mean Christina. She ordered the bagels. I cowboyed-up, mounted my hybrid horse, and ventured out into the Wild West that is the San Fernando Valley to pick up some bagels for breakfast.
After finding a primo hitching post for my hybrid horse, I moseyed past a line of tenderfoots, and bellied up to the counter, where a bad bagel hombre named Chico asked if he could help me.
“Pick up for Christina,” I said.
Then, with a cinematic flourish, I swept my homespun Mexican poncho over my shoulder, and put out my cigarillo on a half-eaten bialy.
“Sorry,” Chico said. “I don’t see your order. They must still be working on it.”
By way of explanation for the delay, Chico pointed to the crowd of tenderfoots. In my younger days, I might’ve reached for my six-shooter, robbed Chico of all the bagels I could carry, and made a run for the County line. Back then, my boots were made for kicking ass and taking names, and wherever I went I was accompanied by a bitching Ennio Morricone soundtrack. But these days I wear New Balance sneakers for comfort and support, and my musical accompaniment is whatever happens to be in heavy rotation on my Spotify. So, I grunted my disapproval, then stepped aside to wait for our bagels.
Time passed slowly, and I began to wonder if maybe I should have handed Chico a fist full of dollars, or maybe even a few dollars more to speed things along. The situation at the Western Bagel had gone from good, to bad, to ugly.
“Are you Chris?” Chico asked.
Was I Chris? No, I wasn’t Chris. As far as Chico and Western Bagel were concerned I was the man with no name, the man Christina had sent into town to rustle up some bagels.
“For Christina,” I grumbled.
Chico lifted up a bag of bagels and pointed to the receipt.
“It says Chris, but I think the computer shortened it from Christina,” Chico said. “There is no Chris, but you are for Christina, right?”
I squinted at the receipt. One onion bagel with sausage, egg, and cheddar cheese for the lady. One everything bagel with tomato, red onion, cucumber, and low-fat cream cheese for the cowboy.
“That’s our order,” I said.
Chico handed me the bagels.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “It was here the whole time, but I didn’t know because I did not know your name.”
“I’m the man with no name, Chico. Thanks for the bagels.”
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Or, if you’re the type of person who needs a prompt, consider the following questions:
Clint Eastwood’s portrayal of The Man With No Name in Sergio Leone’s Westerns redefined the genre. But the reason Eastwood’s character didn’t have a name is Leone couldn’t afford to give him one on a shoestring budget. Assuming money is no object, what name would you give Eastwood’s character? Wrong answers encouraged!
What’s your favorite Western, and why is it Young Guns 2?
I usually order an everything bagel with cucumbers, tomatos, red onions and cream cheese (vegan if they have it). What’s your usual bagel order?
Western Bagel is a real chain that’s been in Los Angeles since the 1940s. I think I had my first bagel there. What city has the best bagels in the world? Hint: It’s not New York.
Imagine you’re the hero of your own story. What’s your soundtrack?
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Good job. I like how you include the pictures and other multi-media in your story.
I love this! So true and so funny! Thank you. An outstanding western movie is The Virginian with Bill Pullman and Diane Lane. A typical , predictable plot, BUT the language used is absolutely brilliant - very spare, true to the era, no anachronisms. As a linguist, I was enchanted with this authenticity. And what the hell is wrong with So. California anyway?! Pineapple bagels? Strawberry bagels? Chocolate chip bagels? Why does everything have to be "improved"? And as for fruit-flavored TORTILLAS? I mean, seriously?