Last night I’m imbibing at the local watering hole with three of my friends. I’m in jeans and a button down, but they are all in dress clothes.
The bar is dead, three people at the bar and then our table of four, so as her only table, we are receiving a lot of attention from our waitress. None of us minded, we’re all early 30’s and attached while the waitress is a 20-year-old blond college student who is very attractive, but Very Stupid. She’s already told us about her lucky sequined shirt which she is wearing under her work t-shirt, her trip to the nearby town to visit a rodeo museum, and that she is a psychology major, but doesn’t know what to do with herself.
About 11:45 our waitress wants to say, “I want to go home, don’t you guys have jobs to go to tomorrow?”, but she more politely asks, “What do you for do for a living?” Without giving us time to answer she says, “I bet you’re truckers, and are in town today, so you had the chance to booze tonight.”
Dressed as we are, none of us are easily mistakable for a trucker.
I respond, “I’m not a trucker but I have a suicide wheel on my Honda.”
Waitress, “Ok, we need to stop talking now. I own a truck, a Ford, and you should all drive Fords. Ford, Ford, Ford, Ford!” pointing at each of us in succession, me last.
Me, her finger still pointed toward my chest, “So you’re a buy American type?”
Waitress, pause, processing, pause, accusingly blurts, “I can’t believe you just asked if I was bi.”
