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An adventure in America, New Jersey actually.
A Saturday morning found us going to Perkins for breakfast, my son-in-law's comment “Dad this breakfast is even too big for you!” An obvious challenge I accepted, he knew I had a good appetite and thought this place would have me beat.
Arriving at the restaurant it was nothing like we have here, and after being seated a wonderful girl took our drinks order and left us to look through the menu. This alone was bigger than any that I had seen at home, with so many choices. Sitting behind my daughter, with her back to me was an old woman, I thought her at least ninety, all alone placing her order.
An item caught my eye, an omelette with a side order of flap jacks. This sounded delicious and as it was a three egg omelette it no way could it be too big for me to devour. Our drinks arrived, mine a coke “bottomless” the lass said, bottomless? I had a bottom and hers wasn't half bad, not sure what she was referring to, so I kept my mouth shut. Taking our order, I thought this lass was a robot, she rattled off all sorts of things to which I had no comprehension. Luckily my daughter seemed to understand her and told her what I would want. You see, I'm semi deaf and an American accent or drawl, although I love the sound of it, difficult to understand when she talked so fast.
In the interim the old women's food arrived, looked like the same as I had ordered, an omelette and a side of flap jacks. This looked too small, I'm was going to suffer from hunger after my meal, but my choice, and I would have to live with it. Our meal arrived, what placed in front of me, not what the old women had got. Three eggs? I knew they did things big in America, but I was not aware the chickens where also bigger. This was a plate full, an omelette filled with ham, cheese, gherkins and I can't remember what else. How pleased I was the lass had forgotten my flap jacks, not to worry I was not going to remind her. No she hadn't, place beside me was a plate with four of the biggest flap jacks I'd seen. “Honey, Syrup, blue berry jam?” she asked, not to seem over whelmed “Honey thanks” my answer.
Now my wife makes me flap jacks at home, two-inch diameter, two bites and its gone, these filled the plate, eight inch at least and almost three-quarter thick. Not to appear over whelmed, I dug in, here came the lass, convinced she was coming to reclaim at least half the flap jacks, I gave her a smile. “Got it wrong?” I wanted to ask, but no, she refilled my coke. When this originally delivered, it seemed at least a half-gallon, and here she was refilling it. I wasn't sure I was capable of finishing the first glass forget the second. From then on during the rest of the meal any time she came near, I placed my hand over the top of the glass to make sure she couldn't fill it again.
The meal finally over, I, not beaten, although not sure how I was to stand, looked at the bill, $4.50 for my meal. Our exchange rate at that time was R10.50 to the dollar, this was still cheap in any man's language. As we readied to leave, I noticed the old woman just ahead of us, shame, bent and walking with a stick, I felt sorry for her and wanted to offer to pay for her meal. “No you don't” my wife said “she'll think you're a pervert or something.” talked out of it, we followed her to the counter and paid after she had done hers. “Look under ten dollars.” I told my wife when I noticed what she paid. My son-in-law paid ours and we followed the old dame out.
I really felt I should aid her to her car, I'm that type of guy, but Linda had a hold of my hand “We're in a foreign country, what do you think she's going to think?” my restraining order whispered to me. I watched as she trundled to her car, my-oh-my, she climbed into a Corvette a two-seater, top down and with a roar of the exhausts she shot out of the parking lot. “Look at that!” I shouted above the roar of the pipes, “She could have paid for my breakfast, the old rich Dame”.
If there is a car I would giver my false teeth for, it's a Corvette, she had dropped the top and with grey hair blowing in the wind, she was gone from my life. I regretted not helping her, and told my wife so, “What? she's got more than us” Linda's retort. “Yea, but I might have scored a car when she dies” my reply.
Good stuff. It's fun to read an outsider's impressions of our typical IHOP or diner! Especially how relieved I was that your wife stopped you from approaching the old lady. The polite concern that seems to be the norm in the rest of the world is far trickier here--especially when it concerns money or a woman's age--although Joan_S is correct, your accent might have protected you from suspicion of ulterior motives.
Ooh! Now if you play with software you can put *yourself* in the driver's seat of a yellow car like the one you show...
Out of the clear blue, I dreamed of a Corvette the other night. In the dream, I was in the market for a car, and someone told me to take a look at it. I never think much about Corvettes or any car, so why did I dream of a Corvette? Strange. I believe we have a Perkins where I live. Think it's a chain. Was there once for breakfast and I remember it was huge. That old lady probably would have loved it if you approached her. American ladies are suckers for a charming accent. Who knows, she might have given you the Corvette.
Joan, don't tell me that, I will now regret my hesitance for the rest of my life. As I told Golfspice below, of my visit to a car lot full of these beauties, I have fantasied about owing one or having a friend with one, preferably a female as she would be easier to convince my need to drive it. Damn, why was there no article on what American ladies like, specially what they are suckers for, I would have been charming them all. Go on Joan buy a Corvette, just so I can say I know someone who owns one. I would picture you enjoying the experience everyday.
No been there done that, a Corvette wrapped around a lady, looks better than any fur coat.
Damn its a beautiful car, I had the opportunity to visit a car lot of only Corvettes, new and used whilst in America. I must have appeared as a dribbling idiot as not a single salesman appeared. I walked around that lot with 193 cars in it (I counted them) for hours, probably like a kid in a toy shop. The salesman sitting inside were either sure of the cars ability to sell itself, or they sat there talking about the old fart in a state of ecstasy outside their window.
Nice Story, Rob, and I thought you might be going to tell us she was the owner of the restaurant. :-) Just stopped by to say "Hi" before I try to read a couple of chapers in Tony's book before bed. (1:00 AM here). Good Night and tell Linda "Hi" from Las Vegas...
Thanks Sherry, glad you dropped in, Las Vegas, my son and daughter-in-law spent time there on their holiday and I have many of their photos. They loved the city and encouraged us to see it on our next excursion to the states that we intend to make.
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