Do You Want Steak Sauce With That?
Occasionally my mother would have the delusion that taking our tribe in public was a good idea... uh.. I'm still think she must have been on drugs. One day she took us to "Rustler's Steak House", a cafeteria style steakhouse that cooked your steak to order right in front of you. Even at 5 years old, I wanted well done. There was no way I wanted to be hacking into something that was bloody and about to run away. The trips there always included packing some doggie bags to take home.
The adventure did not end in the restaurant. Any parent knows that kids love the front seat of the car.... so all five kids would run from the door of the store/restaurant to across the parking lot and screaming, laying claims to the front seat. This particular night I remember my brother and I trying to push the teenagers and getting nowhere. My sister, Lee, grabbed Gail's hand, trying to remove it from the handle.
"I want the front seat! It's not fair! You always get the front!"
"Shut up! You're too little!"
"You shut up, you had the seat last time!"
All the kids were pushing and pulling so much that no one could open the door. My mother got frustrated and placed the doggie bags on the roof of the car, yelled for us to "act normal"... (uh.. lady.. where have you been my whole life? This IS normal). Finally my mother selected one kid to sit in the front seat, then opened the door and allowed us all to climb in.
As soon as the car started, everyone started yelling about which radio station to put on. Kids' arms darted from the back seat to the front as cries of joy or disappointment rang out at the selection. At a stop light, my teen sisters noticed a car full of boys in the next lane. Each of the three girls pushed and argued over which of them the boys were admiring. They blew kisses and winked at the boys for a mile or so. Then my mother hit the brakes to stop at the next light.
All three sisters jumped to the floor of the car as the doggie bags from the roof slid down, drizzling gravy all down the windshield. The boys in the next car were laughing and pointing. They honked their horn and blew kisses back before they took off.
Of course, all parents have done something like this. My mother was always leaving her purse or coffee cup on the roof of the car. To this day, I have no idea have none of us wound up falling off that roof... because, as you know from Saturday's post... my mother would not have been able to find her way back to the original spot to find us.
If you like my humor, be sure to check out my book "Goin' Postal & The Creek".