If you've never gone backpacking for a few days or more, try to imagine you're doing a 'cleansing' fast. All you can have to eat are things that you would normally pass right by in a grocery store. Then the fast is over, you've lost weight, and are now told that you can eat 'anything you want'. You want it, you know it's going to taste awesome and perhaps the only thing even a little bit better than getting it, is the few minutes right before that food is placed in front of you...my mouth is watering just remembering that feeling...however we had a little problem.
We had driven around the outskirts of Harper's Ferry, looking for something open, that wasn't a McDonald's (although Paul would have been fine with that). I wanted something special and the only thing we found open that fit the bill was 'The Anvil Restaurant'. It was on what appeared to be an old residential street, and looked a lot like it used to be a house. There seemed to be quite a bit of that about, and either the locals loved restoring old buildings that were just short of falling down, or there were some serious government incentives for doing just that. There was a front porch, and one of those sandwich signs out front that proclaimed some special that meant nothing to me....you don't come off the trail after days of eating nothing but freeze-dried beef stew to get a bucket of oysters...nope, I had visions of the biggest burger in the world, stacked with onions and whatever else I could think of. I offered to buy our friend's meal, but she demurred, saying that she was on per diem and soon launched into what she did for a living. It was something for the Sierra club, and she was going door to door to the poor folks around about something some big corporation had done wrong....I started seeing that look in Paul's eye, the one where he thought he could get a priest to admit that God was merely a human construct. He mentioned something about Trump clearing out the swamp and then breathed the curse word, 'Hillary' under his breath and I suddenly saw a matching gleam in her eye. I almost choked as I was getting my first taste of the best Margarita I've had in a few weeks. The two of them are warming up to the kind of showdown Fox News would like to broadcast at the beginning of every day. Suddenly, Paul decides that he needs a quick cigarette outside, probably to call his son and download some really good talk radio debate material, and while that is going on, I'm begging her not to wind my brother up. I could probably just put some toilet paper in my ears and eat my burger in peace, but Ed-the-worrier was starting to calculate just how long the walk back to the hotel would be in the dark if she decided she preferred the company of her dog on the ride home.
She promises to be good, but as soon as Paul is back, she turns to me and requests that I admit my 'white privilege'. I say, 'Sure, as recently as last year's trip to Nicaragua, I realized by just being born the the USA, into a family that had enough money to take food and shelter for granted, we were blessed.' That wasn't exactly what she was looking for, but if she was trolling for Trumpster, she hooked Paul good. Fortunately, our friend Andre showed up, and then we were well into the waitress and food order part of the evening. Strangely enough, Trumpster and Snowflake were on the same page here...Paul wanted to know about the farm the cow was raised on, and to make sure that a pickle never got anywhere near his plate in the preparation process. Our friend nodded approvingly, as she inquired about the organic nature of her humus order. Was it farm-to-table, or was this trucked in from some placed where the GMO status wasn't properly checked? Paul smiled back, smug in his knowledge that he wasn't the only kook in the group. I told our waitress to give me the burger with everything on it that they had in the kitchen, and by god, do not leave any seasoning off those french fries. And by the way, do you guys offer free refills on Margaritas? (They didn't)
The good news was, the Anvil delivered on the promise of really good food and even the picky eaters enjoyed their meal. Paul was diverted from politics to making sure Andre had the right gear from the local outfitter, and our friend was telling us about how she had completed the Pacific Crest Trail in 6 months, walking backwards, with an 80 pound pack...but, she upgraded us as well, telling strangers in the restaurant that we were a couple of through hikers, heading to Georgia, while I did my best to appear rugged and wise.
My dog buddy was truly well-behaved, never asking for handouts while in the restaurant, although I never really saw him sniffing for something somebody could be allergic to. We rode back to the hotel in a almost peaceful silence, me with a dog head in my lap, while Paul and our friend talked about backpacking. She was trying, but Paul really had her outgunned in this regard....I've never seen anybody yet top Paul with a hiking story...the best part of this conversation was, all I had to do was snore...
No comments:
Post a Comment