Shooting Down Cupid: Part 4
Waitress By Day- Nick Jahn
Well howdy, y'all! Nice of you to show up in these parts again! Yup - I'm still
stuck in Podunk, USA but wouldn't you know that it is rich country for bad
dating stories? I'm just gettin' warmed up! So grab another import, kick off
your boots and stay awhile. This is becoming very fun if not altogether bizarre.

So here I am - I finally found a coffee slash sandwich shop slash ice cream parlor
that is a really nice spot to go for lunch and get away from the pressures of the
work environment. It is a haven - the kind of place that makes me forget I am
in a town with zero culture other than the soap operas that play out in the
Wal-Mart parking lot or the fact that in order to eat at Outback one must drive
for an hour through wasteland with no other town in between Over and
Yonder. Yeah - scary to say the least. Going to Outback here is akin to an
Antarctic expedition and has almost as many moving parts: check the weather,
the road reports, the cattle movement (to be sure the road isn't blocked) and by
all means make sure the gas tank is full and the tires have plenty of tread. But
in this little sandwich shop I can forget all about that stuff. And that makes me
happy for at least an hour every so often. Which by the way is becoming more
and more often.

But this day is different. The waitress is cute and I'm having a serious case of
déjà vu again only it's not like the last time I had it. Whatever. Anyway, I'm
really being reminded of the time I was in a restaurant a few years ago on a
Saturday morning - no, make that afternoon - having the best barbecue in
town after a late night out with the fellas. That afternoon all I wanted to do
was grab some grease, go home, lie on the couch and watch football. I was
really, really hurting from the night before, smelled pretty bad and looked even
worse. So it made perfect sense for the little cutie to come back after delivering
my mound of pork slathered in sauce (most of which was on my face) and say to
me "I don't usually do this, but can I have your phone number? I'd like to get
together some time." I literally had to pry my eyes open, forget that I had a
headache from hell, swallow the pork, and collect myself to the point that I
could comprehend that she was talking to me. So I gave her my phone number
and got together later. What else was I going to do? Ah, the simple days in a
simpler time.

So today was really reminding me of that other day long past, except today I
wasn't hung over, the waitress hadn't asked me out yet, and I think I ordered
smoked salmon on sourdough and not barbecued pork. But, other than that,
the resemblance was uncanny. So I decided to try the line that worked so well
on me the last time: "I don't usually do this, but I'm in town for awhile and
thought maybe we could get together and blah blah friggin blah." Hot damn it
worked - she blushed, gave me her number, and told me to come out to see her
at her other job where she was a bartender at my favorite steak place in the
whole of these parts. Jackpot! Bartender, peanut shells on the floor, steak,
hmmm…what else does a guy need? I was sooooo all over this one. I just needed
one thing - a designated driver, because the steak place was like, um, way the
hell out the back door over some hills and far away in the next town. And I
figured I needed a few beers to pull this one off!

I needed a lot more than that, as it turned out. Three of us rallied and drove out
to the steak place and yes, she was in fact working that night. Or so I thought.
Apparently instead of the gal who I asked out and told me show up at this place
I mistakenly met up with her ridiculously psycho twin sister. From the minute I
walked in I got the cold shoulder, and in fact I don't remember her talking to
me the entire evening. My friends were also stunned, probably because I
completely talked it up and made her sound like a supermodel and now I
needed to save face for driving them all the way out here.

But, alas, we were guys, so of course there was no line of reason that any of us
could figure out or follow. What we really should have done was found an
equally psycho gal sitting somewhere else in the restaurant and asked her what
the deuce just happened. I mean, it's a simple question, right? "So when a gal
gives you her phone number and tells you to drive 108 miles to see her at work
because she wants to see you, she's obviously just completely @#$^in' kidding,
right?" One of these girls couldn't be that hard to find; the probability of
finding a psycho chick in a bar is what, like 90%? Especially in these parts…just
look for the one chewing Skoal, (Oh wait - that doesn't nail it down at all

But I'm not bitter or anything about it. We ate our peanuts and steak and
consumed more imports and someone other than me drove back to town. All in
all, not a bad night out around here. It really doesn't matter that getting "shot
down" doesn't even to begin to describe the situation, but who cares. I liked
the food and I ain't the one driving. All is well.

My time in this town is getting short and I need to try another line pretty
soon! -- Nick

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