(*My all time fave Onion headline.)
Well, I have an enduring headache, but gonna talk anyway. Two regular Lunch Encounter patrons remarked recently that the joint has been quite subdued lately. Not your usual rollicking romp. Humph.
I made an ill-guided stab at a linear, coherent post (see, or rather don’t see, It’s a Wonder, February 22, 2009). Such a plodding, flat-footed downer it’s a wonder I did not hang up my sandwich-loving soul for eternity. Back to stream of consciousness. Click click click go my brain electro-nodes. Snappity snap snap. The brain band is telekinetic gits, subsonic bass, sonic booms, and mic wrecks. Ooooh, headache much better.
Back to ridiculousness. Who sez gettin’ outta yer comfort zone is good 4 ya?! Huh?! Unless of course you leave the zone in pursuit of rockin’ ‘n rollin’…kissin’ and tellin’….drivin’ and cryin’….hard breakin’ and heart achin’. We did. We drove for days and days, lots of it in a stiff rain.
On a four day Odyssey to St Louis to see my beloved Bottle Rockets, Heidi and I made our first stop in Hancock, MD at the Park-N-Dine. Park was not much of a draw considering both the desolation and the abundant pavement. Though Dine we did, cozily.
The placemats had bee pollen ads, sez Heidi. Sweet.
The spread of cell phone reception and the chicken caesar have been congruous. From metropolitan veins to micropolitan arteries to ruralipolitan capillaries. Heat seeking. Both can sense a beating heart from a 100 mile+ radius.
A wrap is not a sandwich, is it? Nah. You gotta draw the line somewheres. A wrap must be a “More”. A ha. Have pondered that classification since the unfortunate onset of wraps. Git yerself a wrap means, git yerself a little somethin to warm yer shoulders, darlin. A little sweater, a sweet cardigan, draped just so, perhaps with the top button fastened at your clavicle.
We hung tight to a wrap-free zone. Very comfy. A sandwich from a time before we had minds. Minds that did much more than play, that is. Midwestern childhood style. Ham and cheese. Cheese and ham. An eternally gleaming combination. Not brilliant, not glittering, just a nice steady glow. Settle in, let the butter moisten your winter-worn lips and turn your paper napkin translucent.
We traveled so well, give and take, William Shatner and Cake, up early and up late. The spirit of the freeway rewarded us, speaking through Heidi at the alter of the wall, the wall of vending machines. Spiral drop machines. She dropped in her coins, Reese’s in mind. Waiting, watching, slow turning, harrowing. NoooooooooooO! Stuck. Stuck. Stuck. And then, breath held, ~bewham~, once, twice, thrice. Nice!