Thump!

Thump.

All around the restaurant, forks stopped and heads turned. I lowered my menu and craned my neck.

Thump.

The sound came from a table in the corner, where an old woman sat hunched over, frowning. She was gripping a cane in one gnarled old hand and slamming it on the floor. Thump. "Young man!" her quavering voice pierced the air. "Young man!"

The young waiter bending over a table of twittering girls nearby turned reluctantly. "Yes, what is it?"

"Young man, I have been waiting for twenty minutes for you to take my order. Those young girls came in after I was seated, and while I appreciate they are far more interesting than I am, I am getting tired of watching you flirt with them. I wish to be served. Now."

He rolled his eyes and glanced back at the girls, who snickered. "Of course, ma-am," he replied with just the faintest tinge of sarcasm. Hmm, I thought. This is going to be interesting.

He sauntered over and flipped open his order pad. I couldn't hear their conversation, but I watched while she pointed to the menu and peered up at him to ask questions while he fidgeted, sighed and scratched his scraggly beard.

The girls slouched and scrolled, giggling and texting one another. Behind me, a cell phone trilled and a twenty-something answered and began to a loud conversation with her boyfriend. The waiter wandered off and eventually returned with a bowl of soup for my cane-wielding neighbor.

"Young man. Young man!"

Now what? He turned around and put his hands on his hips. The girls looked up.

"What?"

"I ordered the tomato soup, not the minestrone!"

Sighing, he picked up the soup and meandered off.

I closed the book I'd been reading and sat back to watch. A few minutes later he returned with the soup, spilling it slightly as he carelessly set it down. He forgot to give her a soup spoon, so she called him back again. When he brought the bill, he had neglected to give her the senior discount, and she caught it before he even turned to go. She was watching his every move like a hawk, shrewd, sharp-eyed and not giving in, not even an inch.

Finally she stood, grunting with the effort, took up her cane and began to hobble out. Halfway to the door, as he passed by her with another laden tray, he muttered just loudly enough for us both to hear, "Crabby old b --"

She stopped dead in her tracks. Then she turned slowly. Silence fell.

"What did you just call me?"

He gulped. "Um..."

She began to advance on him, step by shaky step.

"Now you listen here, you little snot. While your father was still sucking his thumb in his crib, I had already raised six children, all of whom, I might add, turned out to be respectful adults!"

She slammed her cane down. Thump! The china on the shelf nearby rattled.

"I remember when the first men walked on the moon!" Thump!

"I listened to Martin Luther King speak at the Lincoln Memorial! Thump!

"I remember when computers took up a whole room in a university, and when we used slide rules and dictionaries, and when books, damn it, books were where you found information!

"You can flaunt your blue hair and your tattoos and your idiotic games, but I've watched fifteen presidents get sworn in! I remember the Cold War, the Cuban Missile Crisis and the falling of the Berlin Wall, and I've lived through more wars and disasters than you ever dreamed of in your worst nightmare! Just about every single thing in this world has changed since I was your age, but I still matter!" Thump!

By this time the young waiter was frozen in his tracks, slack-jawed, his tray forgotten, and the manager, who had been hurrying over, was standing stock-still watching. Silence had fallen over the entire restaurant.

She raised her cane and brandished it in his face, and he cringed back. She was pale with rage. "I've lived through it all, and every time I got knocked down, I got back up, you hear me? I may be old, but I'm a walking library and a living, breathing part of this world's history!"

She lowered her cane and leaned on it, panting. Her voice shaking, she said, and everyone leaned forward to hear: "And I will NOT - do you hear me? - will NOT be treated like some piece of useless trash by anyone, least of all some spoiled brat - you got that, sonny?" One last thump, and silence fell.

The applause started slowly, but soon it built to a roar so loud the walls seemed to shake. The waiter nodded, staring at the floor and biting his lip. Even the girls were pumping their fists. And on that note she turned and stalked off, her cane thumping the floor with every step.

Bravo, I thought, clapping with the rest. As she hobbled by me, our eyes met. I nodded, and she gave me a gracious nod in return, one old lady to another, two shabby old owls in a forest of twittering young nestlings. The world may think it belongs to the young, but if you look hard enough, you'll see millions of us, perched in the shadows, watching the world with fierce old eyes.

The waiter was back at work, and he approached me with my bill. As he laid it on the table, I adjusted my glasses and gave him a stern look.

You'd better be careful, I thought.

I've got my cane right here.