Three Men Swaying

They used to sway back and forth in unison.

Like three Who’s from Whoville singing Fah Hoo Doraze¹.

Or maybe more like a stiff barbershop quartet, whose Second Tenor called in sick the day of the show, making them a trio, belting out a charming second-tenor-less rendition of “Coney Island Baby.”

Back then, they were three middle-aged guys selling, I think, carpet.

Yep, a quick Google search verifies: Carpe²Towne: Carpet Experts. Sometimes my memory does work.

If you squint, the guys even have names: Andy, Phil, maybe Dan? I think the idea is that their heads are protruding from rolls of carpet. They don’t make signs like that anymore, do they?

The building has changed owners and renters over the years. But the sign stayed. Three carpet dudes overlooking 33rd South, a vintage nonsequitur to whatever business actually resided below.

The sign stopped swaying at one point. Because the renter didn’t want to pay extra electricity bills. Or the moving machinations broke. Or both.

And eventually, just before Y2K, the sign and corresponding business below turned into Tres Hombres, a decidedly middle-of-the-road Mexican restaurant that has a perpetually packed parking lot. Everybody’s hungry for a Fiesta Tostada and its fried flour tortilla boat³.

And the three middle-aged carpet salesmen are now three unnamed hombres—two of them wearing sombreros and one looking suspiciously Jesus-like.

Swaying.

Or balanceando.

1. Call the song whatever you want, but you know the one.

2. Carpe Towne would also be a decent name for a Repo company, using Carpe in its Latin form—a la carpe diem—meaning: to seize.

3. The menu’s words. Not mine.