Breakfast Duelists

Having made fantastic time on my trip to Electric Eel yesterday (Electric Eel: for all your drain and sewer cleaning needs) I decided that I could treat myself to a sit down if inexpensive breakfast. So as I approached the north end of Bellefontaine, Ohio and spied a Waffle House, I parked and went in to eat.

The waitress soon poured and then refilled my coffee before setting my meal in front of me. I dug in.

A couple of minutes later, I sensed her presence. I looked up. We locked eyes as I was about to consume a mouthful of eggs. I heard the eerie, echoing, haunting refrain from Hang 'em High. Her raised eyebrow clearly said, "Draw!"

I set the eggs back on my plate and pretended to check a message on my cell phone which lay on the table next to my breakfast. Her attention was then taken by a couple at a nearby booth.

Raising a piece of bacon to my lips apparently set her spider sense to tingling. As she turned to look at me, in a circular motion I set the bacon down and put the phone to my ear. I hoped she would think I had a call and the ringer was on silent. She went back to work.

A minute later she was behind the counter, staring at me. I put some jam on toast. The triangular end of it was nearly in my mouth; her mouth opened to speak. But I set the bread down, making as though to rub a crick in my neck. She picked up a glass, wiping it out with a towel. We eyed one another closely. This was becoming quite the war of wills.

The waitress turned to face the cook, to give him an order. This, I thought, was my chance. I shoved a forkful of hash browns into my mouth. Yet the Force was strong in this one. She wheeled around and fired at me, "So-how-is-your-breakfast-so-far?"

"Urr, ugh, ah, ehh, um-hmmm," I responded, giving a thumbs up as I desperately tried to chew and swallow that bite of food.

I paid my bill and left a decent gratuity. I tipped my hat to her as I left. Well played, milady. Well played.

Being Grandpappy

I spent last weekend with the Ohio Cosgriffs, in part to be a grandpappy. Yes, I'm Grandpappy. I chose it because it's different, and vaguely southern. 

Me Granddaughter got a job waitressing at a Bob Evans, so of course I had to go bug her there. Knowing they don't have alcohol, when she asked us what we would like to drink I said, "Bud Light."

"I'm sorry, we don't have beer here."

"Oh. Well, can I see the wine list?"

With a twinkle in her eye and small, wry smile, she asked, "Have you been practicing this?"

I. Love. It. She's adult enough to throw it back at it you in the spirit of the jest. "Of course I have!" I answered.

In the end I asked for coffee, and she kept my cup full the whole meal. Looking over the menu I decided on an entree which came with two sides. When she came to take our orders she dutifully asked what I would like for them. "Fried okra," I began.

"I'm sorry, we don't have fried okra."

I knew that, of course, having looked. Still, I kept on. "How about asparagus tips?"

"Did you practice this too?"

"Nope. This part is entirely ad-libbed." But then I ordered seriously (no point pushing too far as she was working) and tipped her well as grandpas should. And I made it a point to tell her later that I was impressed and proud of her, having seen and heard how well she interacted with other customers. Because grandpas should do that too.