Two Over Easy, Home-fries, Bacon and Laura, Please?
The wife and I have to travel about 12 miles, one way, to see our doctor. No, we don't live out in the boondocks. We live in a small city and there are lots of doctors here in town. But years ago, when I worked somewhere else, my health plan didn't include any of the doctors in my hometown. But it did include the ones in the small town 12 miles away, so we started getting our health care there. We still do, even though my new job would allow us to change. By now we're comfortable with our doctor and his clinic and associated hospital. So we've stayed with him.
Besides which, I think he's a pretty good doc!
Due to some ongoing health concerns for my wife and myself, we find ourselves traveling to the clinic in that small town for fairly frequent blood tests. We usually try to have the blood drawn on Saturdays, as I work second shift and the wife works first during the week, and Saturday's a day we both can travel together. We usually make a morning of it by going out for breakfast after letting the lab technicians draw off their quota of our red stuff. We followed this now-familiar routine last weekend.
The blood test this time was for my wife, so I was just along for the ride. And the breakfast of course. We occasionally vary the restaurants we eat at, but generally go to a particular one.
Let me tell you about it.
The restaurant in question sits very close to the center of the little town where our doctor practices. It is not a pretentious place; it's very low key. The establishment is in a long, narrow room with booths along the right side and a counter with stools along the left. Behind the counter is the grill where the short-order cook runs the show. He's a skinny dude, lightly bearded, with an ever present baseball cap on his head. He is a quite capable grillman. We're always fascinated by his expertise with the knife and spatula, and his skill handling the volume of orders he's presented with.
Did I mention that this little restaurant is always busy? Well, it is, at least on Saturday mornings when we're usually there. We even have to take stools from time to time and sit at the counter, as the booths fill up fast. Some of the breakfast food is prepared in a small kitchen in the rear of the building, such as the sausage gravy and the oatmeal. They also pre-shred and pre-cook the mountains of home-fried potatoes which are then browned on the grill up front.
The majority of the food, however, is cooked on the grill.
The food is good, the coffee is hot and the service is, if not the fastest, very entertaining.
I think I mentioned that this restaurant is in a small town? Being such, a lot – might I even say most – of the customers are locals. A lot of them know each other. And the waitresses pretty much know most of the customers. So there's a lot of conversation and joking around going on between the waitresses and the customers. Some mornings we've been there it's been quite a circus.
Which brings us to the staff. I mentioned the short-order chef – the dude with the ball cap? Along with him there's a couple of older ladies who mainly take care of the kitchen in the rear of the restaurant, a girl who busses the tables and what looks to be the short-order cook's wife, who helps with plating, toast and other supporting cook stuff. Then there's Mona and Laura who are the primary waitresses in the restaurant.
Mona is 30-ish, slim, dark-haired, friendly and very good at her job.
Laura is... how do I say this? Pretty? Beautiful? Cute? A knockout? Yep... all of that. The wife and I have watched her grow up over the years as customers of the establishment. She was a cutie-pie teenager when we first noticed her, learning the ropes and having a ball being a waitress. She has since, over the last 6 or 7 years, grown into an astonishingly beautiful woman. About five foot, four inches tall or thereabouts, honey-blond hair, very clear skin, small upturned nose and beautiful clear eyes. Her body is almost swimsuit-model perfect, and she has developed a very substantial set of... well, let's say she is very, very well endowed.
Very well indeed!
Laura was on duty last Saturday when we walked into the busy restaurant. The booths were full so we took two stools at the counter and began watching the “show” that was going on, as she and Mona were flying around the room, taking orders, pouring coffees, delivering plates and wise-cracking with all and sundry in the room. Mona was her usual pleasant self, competent, friendly and easy on the eyes. But Laura?
Wow!
That particular day she had on the shortest, tightest pair of shorts I believe I've ever seen. Her top was a green, scoop-neck, tee-shirt kinda thing advertising both the restaurant's name and her spectacularly substantial rack!
Now you have to understand that I was there with my wife, Laura is much, much younger than I am and I was in town to assist in my poor wife getting a blood test, for Pete's sake. But... I was aware, to the millimeter, exactly how low her shirt was cut and exactly how short her shorts were. As was every red-blooded man in the restaurant, I'll wager. And every time Laura took a step I was aware of the delicious bouncing that was evident for anyone with eyes.
I tried to maintain my nonchalance, my indifference, but it was undoubtedly evident that I was enjoying the show. My wife nudged me sometime during the ongoing performance and said with a grin, “Oh, you noticed? I thought maybe you missed it.”
I told her that I was old but not dead!
She grinned again and said, “And I thought you liked this place for its eggs!”
She's a good sport!
We ate our breakfasts and enjoyed the show. And I took a mental picture of Laura to carry out with me, which I could retrieve and peruse on the proverbial rainy day.
She's a hell of a cutie!
If you're curious, take a drive down Ohio Route 57 toward the southern end. Find a restaurant near the center of the little town that sits there. Go in. Look around.
If she's working that day, you'll know it.
Don't forget the sausage gravy on your biscuits!
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