The Rock Hill Bakehouse is a privately owned bakery in South Glens Falls that specializes in breads. Lots of really good bread. Their menu states “We are real people who like real food.” They have a large bakery located right off of exit 17 on the Northway, and a restaurant/coffee house in downtown Glens Falls. In the bakery they have a sign by the register that demands SMALL BILLS ONLY. Once I had a $10 and received a sour look from the white-bearded man who owns the whole place. So much for customer service.
I ate there with my grandparents. We were served by a teenager with lip and nose piercings and sat right next to a classical guitarist. I thought it was pretty neat, but then again I didn’t have to look at him while we were eating. That was grandpa’s treat.
The guitarist looked like John the Baptist, 2007. He was unkempt and wild. His hair was in a pony tail and his beard was messy. He wore very short denim shorts…too short. His hairy legs ended at grimy toes and flip flops that had fallen onto the ground below his stool. I liked my sandwich and grandpa liked his, but we hadn’t left the parking lot before the hairy legs were mentioned. They are real people who like real food.
In a place like that, or in any whole foods store for that matter, I usually feel sorely out of place. I feel like an antiseptic wipe in a petri dish. Like a Mary Kay rep at the Ingles’ doorstep, like Paris Hilton on the Appalachian Trail. They sell me things because my money is as green as they next guy’s, but must think that I could be “greener.”
Now, I’m not wearing Prada or Versace. But I’m not wearing a do-rag over a braid. It’s a subculture that I’ve never tried to infiltrate and probably never will.
Our sandwiches today were $10 each. Indeed, the ingredients were “real” and were served by “real” people. I also suspect the white-bearded man is lining his all-nature leather wallet with real small bills.