The Tacoma Gravy Incident Part 2

So we pulled into the parking lot. It was amazing how packed it was at that time of night, especially seeing as how it seemed to be in the middle of nowhere. It was as if everyone in the Denny's had been the victim of a brain wash, or perhaps a body snatching as they all turned their heads collectively as we pointing the Jeep/Mr. Turtle Pool into it's stall.

Some colourful words were exchanged as we helped the girls out of the back, I couldn't really blame them. The dogs were resilient once patted on the head and promised a hot patty melt upon our return.

We all headed straight to the restrooms once we moved into the dryness of the restaurant. I couldn't really blame the other patrons, we did look like hell. My hair made me look like Bela Legosi after taking swimming lessons, and I had to take my shirt off to wring it in the sink. We all made it back to the door and "waited to be seated."

Everyone still seemed to be looking at us, and the waitress did a full top to bottom scan with her over mascared eyes. She guided to a booth after a few minutes and dropped the menus on the table with the care of an abusive mother. Once we got a good look at each other, we did have a bit of a laugh. What in the hell were we doing?? Anyhow, we were starved and quickly grabbed the menus as if they were the tools of salvation itself. I've never been a big fan of menus that have pictures of the food beside every item, but I get even more concerned when the food comes out looking "exactly" like the photo. It happens every time there. It's like they have one of those Star Trek ovens in the back. "Grand Slam breakfast, scrambled, bacon, hash browns...black coffee, hot."

The waitress finally came back and started taking the orders, me being the gentleman I am (if that is even possible in a Denny's) waited to go last. When she finally got to me I ordered two patty melts on their own to go (for Jordan and Reno), and a patty melt for myself with fries and gravy. As she gathered the menus from the our hands with the same haste she had deposited them, she repeated my order. "Two patty melts to go, one patty melt with fries and white gray."

I got a sudden shiver in my spine (you see I had just seen the picture in the menu). I said "excuse me miss, I wanted brown gravy not white gravy."

She spun around as if on roller skates, a feat that didn't seem possible considering her form or lack thereof. She said "First let me inform you that I am not a miss, do I look like a miss? I have been slinging hash here since before you were born, you may called me ma'am." I managed to sneak in a "yikes" before she managed a laboured breath before she could continue. "Secondly, everyone knows there's no brown gravy after 10pm."

I sat there in stunned silence for a moment. Once collected I squeaked out "Um, ma'am. I think you just said everyone knows there is no brown gravy after 10pm???"

"That is what I just said, are you slow? There is no brown gravy in Tacoma after 10pm!"

"What, is this a bylaw or something? Did you have kids all whacked out of brown gravy raging terror on the city? Lady....ma'am, I've had a really long night, I would just like some hot brown gravy I can have with my fries and I will simply go away."

Her eyes narrowed and focused as if she was trying to use her heat vision to give me a lobotomy. She quickly spun again and headed to the other side of the restaurant. I realized that the din of ever fattening clientele had ceased. I waited for it to start up again like a lawnmower engine before I looked at my fellow weary travellers and whispered out a "what the fuck was that?"

Jeff got a wry smile on his face, but at the same time motioned his eyes up and away from me just as I felt a hand grasp my shoulder. "Is there a problem here son?" A booming voice questioned me. I looked up to find a very Buford T. Justice looking State Trooper....with his hand on gun no less.

"There in no problem here officer, just looking for some brown gravy was all."

"Well we don't take a shine to that around here. You've made Mabel (Mabel ugh!!) uncomfortable and I think it's time you folks hit the road."

Don't get me wrong. I've always respected the law, but this was getting out of hand. Of course I then had to seal the deal with a "You've got to be fucking kidding me? You are asking us to leave because you fucking phycho's only eat white gravy after 10pm?!? What are you people, a bunch of fucking culinary Stepfords?"

That was it. He picked up my 240lb frame with one hand and started guiding me toward the door. My brown gravy entourage followed. He opened the door with my head (nice touch) and shoved me out. "Just start driving boy!!" CRAZY ASS SHIT. We loaded back up in the Jeep. The cattle...I mean customers in the restaurant were clapping, they were actually freaking clapping, all strung out on white gravy no doubt. The dogs looked at me as if they too were trying to raise a middle finger from their paws in response to their missing patty melts. Not to worry, they were more than content with their AM/PM hotdogs about 15 minutes later. We sure the hell weren't.

To be continued....