If you want to increase your success rate, double your failure rate.

Saturday, June 2, 2012

Dirty Garages Are Not OK

I reached for the door handle, pulling hard to combat the force of the wind.  Rain pelted the back of my neck, stinging, biting.  The door slammed shut behind me and it seemed as though everyone in the diner stopped and turned to stare.  I wondered if each of them had received the same attention on their entrance.  The storm had been surging for hours now.  Many homes were without power thanks to the numerous downed trees and it appeared that the diner was now a place of refuge as much as it was a place for breakfast.

I waited at the sign that boldly announced PLEASE WAIT TO BE SEATED.  I stood, and stood.  5 minutes, then ten.  The place was only 2/3 full and I noticed quite a few tables sitting empty yet I only received passing glances from the wait staff and an occasional look of disgust from a few of the patrons.  It was if I was some type of homeless transient, I wasn't.  I was freshly showered and dressed and even a spritz of aftershave.  I was confused to say the least but the confusion was quickly turning to frustration.  I didn't have a lot of time and I was hungry.

Another 5 minutes passed and I raised my hand to hail the attention of the waitstaff.
"Could I please get a table?", I asked.  Eyebrows raised high, surely they were enough to express my discontentment.

"Read the sign buddy", a disheveled busboy complete with the grease stained dish apron and a three day beard growth said to me.  He hiked his thumb over his shoulder towards the wall.  I gave him a quizzical look but nonetheless I turned my head to read the sign that I had so absentmindedly forget to read upon my entrance.  The entire time wondering what it could possibly read to keep me from getting a table.

On the wall, directly at eye level, emblazoned in gold letters was the sign.  I don't know how I could have missed it.  The gaudiness of the gold letters on the avocado green background all but thrust the letters into your face.  It read,  "To be seated you must have a clean garage".

"Rules are rules", the busboy said to me as he picked up a piece of uneaten bacon off the recently vacated table and thrust it into his mouth somehow managing to get the tips of three of his fingers into his mouth along with the bacon.  A slathering smack of approval was the only other sound he made.

I looked around the diner.  Everyone was still staring at me.  I shook my head, pulled up the collar of my coat and pushed my shoulder against the door which was still being driven shut by the wind.  As I made my way back to the truck I couldn't grasp what had just transpired.  Seriously!  How the hell did they know my garage was a mess?

I headed home, driving a little to fast for the weather conditions but I was hungry and I had a garage to clean.

Have a great Saturday!  You know what I'll be doing!



  2. You crack me up! Always love reading your posts and stories! love you and miss you brother man!

  3. Ha ha. Good luck with the clean-up.

  4. Dad,
    The hose is still there because the damn ground was still too hard to trench for my water line. Patience you old codger, patience. This isn't Florida where it is all sand we got real dirt up here!

    I'm glad you read it. Makes it even more special knowing my family is close even if it is through reading! Stay tuned more to come! Love you too....More than you know!

    Does this look normal? Sorry. Thanks for reading. I'll be seeing you!


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