This sentence leads me to believe the awning guy isn’t that important. He can wait. They have a lot of other things to contend with, such as serving food and drinks to customers. It’s not raining, it’s not that hot, there isn’t a tremendous influx of birds flying overhead, in short, Mr. Awning Guy, you are sadly going to wait by that host stand until someone is done doing something that requires attention.
AWNING GUY: Man, this place is busy. Lot of nice women here. Families too. I should call my family. Ahhh, my ex might answer. The ex, the axe. What a battle-axe she turned out to be. Won’t even let me see my kid. Little Max. Wonder if he’s walking now. Last I saw he was crawling. Crawling and crying. Couldn’t sleep a night without little Max screaming bloody murder. 2am, 5am, didn’t matter to him. He wasn’t working. Neither was she. That’s what you get for meeting your wife at Mc Manus’s Pub, where they’re known for 2 dollar drafts and making their own coleslaw. I should have come here. I would’a met a fashionista. A librarian. An artist, of some kind who made a bit a cash for selling paintings and we’d sit out in the cafe and smoke cigarettes while it rained but not on us cause that awning would not allow a single drop to fall on her artistic little head.
HOST: Sorry about the wait.
AWNING GUY: No problem.
HOST: Michael, will see you now.
AWNING GUY: Thank you.
And just like that. I may never see that awning guy again. or ever wonder what he thinks. About anything.