Did everyone celebrate his or her independence yesterday? I do everyday, so it was just another day in the life of Mike. Here's how things went down.
One of my favorite things about owning my own home is the ability to grill outside and as tradition requires, I planned to barbeque. I believe after the signing of the Declaration of Independence John Hancock fired up the ol’ barbeque pit, Thomas Jefferson invited over some ladies, one of the guys who scribble their name tossed on some steaks and everyone cracked open a few beers. Look it up. Unfortunately, I had no hotdogs or any meat to speak of, so I rounded up the family and set out to find an open store. Before we left, we decided that we’d eat lunch out – my wife and I were craving turkey clubs but were too lazy to make them for ourselves. You know how it is.
Had we thought of it sooner, we would have looked into eating at the Shady Glenn. They’re food is awesome. Instead we patronized Bickford’s Family Restaurant in Greenfield. Bickford’s is a scab on the backside of Greenfield that I just can’t help but pick at.
Here, look at these forks. You can’t help but laugh! The dollar store across the street has a four or eight pack of matching forks. (I’d provide the price they’re selling at but if you can’t figure that out I don’t care for you as a person.) What’s their excuse?!
I do have to admit that the service was particularly decent on this day. They pulled out their best C+ game. As I took my first bite of the over toasted club, light reflected from the bald spot of a man who sat the booth behind ours. There was something about that fluffy gray hair, the bald spot and the slouch that seemed familiar. Hella familiar. The light bulb suddenly clicked on and I knew who it was, it was so obvious!
With a purple crayon, given to my son to draw on those placemats they provide, I wrote a note on a napkin and passed it to my wife, who scoffed and crumbled the napkin up.
DALTON ATHEY
Dalton was in the company of another gentleman and the two were in a heated conversation. I couldn’t take a picture, so no picture proof. Sometimes even I have a pang of conscience and think I may be too obsessive with my picture taking. Dalton’s companion frequently made nervous eye contact with me – he looked shady, I look like a cop. There’s a reason I get the high and tight. Instant respect and intimidation, believe it!
[ Since I couldn’t take a picture of the man, I present to you the man’s drink. Note the lemon. ]
From what I overheard of the duo’s conversation, they were plotting ways to show up the Mayor – you know, the one who won the election while he was the loser, the one who lost, the one which failed to gain the support of the public. Also based on what I overheard, I could call him a sore loser pissy diaper pants head but I won’t. What I will say is, Get over it! When George Bush lost not one but both elections did you see him sitting around and complaining? No! He did something about it! I’d also say it’s not so smart to discuss political strategy in a public place like that. You never know who could be carrying a recording device…
Full from lunch and with dinner on my mind, we left Bickford’s and set off for the grocery store. As we were en route, my wife exclaimed, “Hey isn’t that DorkyKid?!” (Okay, that’s obviously not his real name but herein he will be referred to as such. Can’t have him stumbling upon this story under the impression we’re still best buddies or that I occasionally still think of him.) I looked over to the Exxon station’s lot and saw an overweight kid, in matching brown t-shirt and shorts, waddling to his car after he apparently bought some gasoline. I couldn’t tell for sure who it was. He could have been DorkyKid. Having nothing to do and never one to pass up an opportunity to covertly stalk, I pulled into the DMV parking to and turned back.
So, I pulled into the Exxon but the suspected DorkyKid was already in his car, driving away. Another brief glimpse of him but again, unable to identify him. He pulled out onto Main Street and I followed in hot pursuit.
“If that’s him,” I said as I flipped down the visor, “I don’t really want him recognizing me.” My wife followed suit and flipped hers down, too.
We followed him, at a safe distance, down Main Street and then down Federal Street. We kept a safe distance not only because of the fear of identification but also because the kid is a horrible driver! Weaving, jerking, slowing down then speeding up, resting his foot on the brakes. We continued to follow him until he pulled into the Cumberland Farms, where he stopped at a gas pump. I continued on and drove past him, trying to watch as he exited the vehicle.
Unfortunately, the flow of traffic prevented a slow drive-by. Pulling a donut in the parking lot of Subway, I sped back to Cumberland Farms, pulled into the parking lot and took a space. Waited. Waited. Then I was bit by the bug of curiosity and wondered aloud, “What the hell is he getting gas again for?”
As if on cue, suspected DorkyKid exited and waddled over to the pump. This time I got a good look at him. He was not my ex-school chum; he was not DorkyKid. But I’ll be damned if he didn’t look like him!
The grocery store was uneventful. Straight in and out, mission accomplished. Before long we were back home and enjoying the company of each other. All in all, we had a pretty decent day. Sometime after six I fired up the grill and threw on the hotdogs and some ears of corn. Grilled corn isn’t that bad, it was the first time I cooked corn on the grill.
In closing, you may have noticed I did not mention fireworks. They were scheduled for last weekend but due to in climate weather were postponed until this Saturday. I’ll be sure to post picture from that event.
Hope you made the most out of your Independence day. Peace out.
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