Skip to content

Through the Land of the Limping

January 11, 2013

The boyfriend and I went on a holiday to visit his folks in Florida. I happen to love road trips so I insisted we drive instead of fly. We had a few adventures and more than a few misadventures as we made our way to Florida and back but overall it was…interesting. One interesting experience we shared happened in Kentucky. I was completely certain I was starving to death so I insisted we pull over to eat.

“D.C., there is absolutely no signage about restaurants at this exit. Are you sure you want to pull over here?”

“We’re obviously coming to a town of some sorts. They must have something. Besides, my legs are cramping and I’m pretty sure I’m going to die of hunger before we get to the next exit.”

So we exited highway 75 and found ourselves in a tiny little town. I was right, of course. They did have food. We pulled into a truck stop/restaurant, I shook the cramps from my legs and we went inside where we saw two other patrons and a waitress. We sat down and the waitress limped over to us. Her limp was quite severe and I felt guilty about making her wait on us but if she wasn’t going to make a big deal out of it, neither was I. I ordered vegetable soup, cornbread and – just for funzies – fried okra. My boyfriend ordered a bunch of deep fried stuff. I didn’t pay attention when he placed the order and it was pretty much unidentifiable when it arrived so I have no clue what it was, really. As it turns out, I’m not a huge fan of fried okra and the cornbread in Kentucky is flat like a pancake. At first I thought the waitress had forgotten the cornbread and the pancake thingy was part of my boyfriend’s order. I considered letting it go because I didn’t want to make the poor waitress limp back to the kitchen to bring me the rest of my order. But, as I mentioned already, I was starving and veggie soup on its own was not going to  rectify this problem.

“Um, may I get an order of cornbread, please?”

“Why, there’s your cornbread right in front of you, hon.”

“Oh. Sorry, I didn’t realize.”

“Now where y’all from?”

“Toronto, Canada.”

“Well, in these parts this is what the cornbread looks like, darlin’.”

“Oh. Okay, thank you.”

“If y’all don’t like it, I’ll bring ya out somethin’ else.”

“I’m sure I’ll like it, thank you. It looks…good.”

It was not good. It was terrible as was the soup and the fried okra. It occurred to me it might be the restaurant, not the style of food. I wasn’t about to admit that to my boyfriend, though, who would just give one of those ‘I told you so’  looks, accompanied with the suggestion we wait until we see proper signage before exiting the highway next time.

As the waitress went into a kitchen, one of the cooks came out. The cook had a  limp. I  debated whether or not the fact that both the cook and the waitress had limps would be worth mentioning to my boyfriend, who was obviously suffering through his meal while trying to look as though he were enjoying it. Before I could make up my mind, the old man in the corner lit up a cigarette. The only other patron, a lady, stood and limped over to the front counter. Our waitress came out and asked, “What’s a matter, hon?” The lady asked if there was a no smoking section, which there wasn’t, and then limped back to her table in a huff.

“This is just getting weird,” I said.

“I know, right? They’re still allowed to smoke indoors in Kentucky. The people who don’t want to smoke have to go outside,” the boyfriend replied. “What a hoot.”

“Well yeah but haven’t you noticed that everyone in this place has a limp? The waitress, the cook, that lady…”

Just then the old man crushed out his cigarette threw some bills on the table and…yep, you guessed it, limped out the door.

“Ho-ly shit.” I whispered.

“Yeah, it’s so weird,” said the boyfriend. “I’ll be right back. I need to get some cigarettes.”

“Okay but be careful. You need those legs for driving.”

“Huh? you were the one complaining your legs were cramping up.”

It was then that I realized the boyfriend and I had been having two separate conversations. He obviously hadn’t heard a word I said.

About twenty minutes later, we were in the car when my boyfriend turned to me and said, “that was a weird place. Did you notice everyone was limping? And the food sucked. Next time let’s wait until we see signage before exiting.”

“Sure hon, whatever y’all want.”

5 Comments leave one →
  1. tallulahrose permalink
    January 11, 2013 5:45 pm

    Love it….. I wouldn’t go back after dark though….xx

  2. January 11, 2013 7:00 pm

    Well, that was quite a trip, huh? LOL I love road trips, too. You never know what you’ll discover on the ground that you’d miss from the air. . . . like a bunch of limping people. I assume you can still walk okay? Nothing strange happening? At least you’ll have a story to tell for the rest of your life! And I don’t think boyfriends ever have the same conversation as us. You know the whole Mars/Venus thing.

  3. January 11, 2013 7:41 pm

    OK. D.C., You two are brave for stopping at some random gas station restaurant and actually eating. What part of Florida?

  4. juliabarrett permalink
    January 12, 2013 5:08 am

    Now that gives me the heebie jeebies! One thing about the States – stick with McDonalds on long car trips.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: