After the my bar rounds tonight, I just stopped at the local IHOP for some belly fuel. It probably doesn’t say much for the state of my life that I am a regular at the IHOP eating alone at 2AM, but I digress.
There was a cute new waitress there today, so I was a bit distracted as I left. But as I stepped into the parking lot, I heard a honk, as a car nearly ran me over to park directly in front of the place, in what is not a normal parking place. The car was a beat up old Skylark, with dents and rust. Then the driver’s door opened and a dignified man crisply dressed in a full chauffers uniform steppped out. He executed a perfect about face, stepped to the back door, opened it, assisted out, a 60ish woman. She was wearing a ratty sweater, stained old-woman polyester pants, fur shawl,a cake-on-the-head hat, and an enourmous broach. Then he walked around the back of the car, executing exact quarter turns and measured steps the whole time. He open the other door and assisted out a 30ish year old woman. She was wearing what as near as I could tell was a very expensive ball gown, a diamond neckless, a faded suede coat, and dirty pink tennis shoes. The driver walked in perfect form to the door and held it open, and they all disappeared inside IHOP.
It took every ounce of mind-your-own-business-instinct, to not follow them in and ask what the hell was going on. Until the day I die, I will always wonder what the story behind that was.
That’s completely bizarre. Our IHOP is surreal too, if only because it ALWAYS smalls like urine, no matter when you go there.
Good thing you didn’t follow, man.
That’s got ‘Eyes Wide Shut’ situation written all over it.
What did you order??
“If it weren’t for my horse, I never would have had that year in college.”
More important than all that, did you get the waitress’ phone number?
I think it’s, “fi it hadn’t been for my horse, I would have spent that year in college.”
That’s really strange. I can’t think why anyone would hire a chauffer for a Skylark and then drive it to IHOP. I mean, IHOP? Gross!
Here’s the story:
The women are mother and daughter. The older woman still lives at the family home where the daughter grew up. The family was poor; really poor.
Daughter grew up ambitious, dreaming of a better life for herself, and when she was able she left home and moved to The Big City, where she worked to put herself through college. Perhaps she majored in International Business or something.
Now daughter, who’s made quite a name for herself (and a lot of money) in her chosen field, is to be honored at a ceremony at her high school in a sort of Local Girl Makes Good piece. So she comes home and says, “Mama, you’ve got to come with me!” Mama doesn’t want to go, still being bitter over daughter’s leaving home and being out of touch for all those years, as well as distrustful of her daughter’s high-falutin’ ways. But daughter convinces her to go anyway.
On the downside, the family fortunes have been waning even more in the years since daughter left, and Mama doesn’t even have a nice dress to wear to the ceremony. She decides to wear what she’s got on, plus her mama’s old fur and brooch. “It ain’t no disgrace to be poor,” she says to soothe daughter’s offended fashion sense. Also she doesn’t trust the fancy limousine in which daughter has shown up at the house; the ride is so smooth and silent that she just knows it’s gonna make her belch.
A compromise is reached. Mama and daughter will both go, but Mama will wear her regular togs plus Granny’s niceties, and she’ll accept the services of the chauffeur (who’s kinda handsome, and heck, Pa passed on from the vapors a few years back), but only if he’ll drive them in her (t)rusty old Skylark.
The ceremony is a smash; everyone has a wonderful time, and Mama wows the assembled local dignitaries with her homespun wisdom and folksy anecdotes. Mama and daughter are thrilled and vow to mend their broken relationship, and after the ceremony (which went late and there’s not much open) they all decide to go to IHOP for a Belgian Waffle and a Denver Omelet.
Mama is careful to sit next to the chauffeur.
Fade to black.
No, it’s the first one, I think. I’m 99% sure it’s “If it wasn’t for my horse, I never would have spent that year in college.”