Yesterday we took a nice drive down to the mouth of the Potomac. The weather was hazy and warm and we had a few memorable excursions along the way. The little St. Clement's Island museum was deserted but charming, and we found an interesting graveyard in historic St. Mary's City.
After a few stops and walks around, we found ourselves hungry. Both of us having a fondness for 'local color' - whatever that may entail - we pulled into a little inn and restaurant, looking for a sandwich or slice of pizza. What we walked into resembled the twilight zone.
Five round, dingy tables sat in what looked like someone's living room. An old fat woman with flabby arms sat at one table, stringy hair hanging over her shoulder. She was complaining about not being able to smoke. A family sat at another table, finishing some pizza. A third table was covered with pizzas, 2-liter sodas, and cupcakes.
In a darkened room resembling a private living room, off the main dining area, two diners sat still, not talking, not eating, no lights on. Were they alive? Asleep? The place was silent - no music playing, no one speaking.
The fourth table housed a manger scene, still going strong into the first week in April, and at the fifth table sat a partially blind man in an electric wheelchair.
The hostess told the wheelchair-bound man that she would need his table for the 'eat-in guests' and he said he was on his way. As he attempted to wheel past us he said, to my partner, "Excuse me sir, or ma'am, or whatever you are..." Now, he is very much a man and resembles one as such, though I suppose for a blind person it would be difficult to tell. He seemed to be able to get himself by the tables and out the door, though.
As we ordered (water and iced tea, onion rings, and an Italian sub to split), the door opened and eight young children poured into the room, aparently in the middle of a birthday party.
On a dare, I went to the bathroom - mostly to explore the back room with the catatonic women. Back there were three sofas arranged in a partial square, bounded off by shelves and boxes. Several people were lounging on the couches doing nothing - not talking, no TV, not reading. Just sitting there. Staring straight ahead. Doing nothing.
Where the heck were we?? What had we wandered into? And would we get out alive??
Thankfully, our food arrived and was actually pretty good. We had to sit through an awful rendition of "Happy Birthday" (to Bruce) and listen to the fat woman complain more. We ate our food, wide-eyed and confused, and got the hell out of there as quickly as we could!
I was craving a coke and we needed gas, so he pulled into a no-name gas station that happened to share space with a laundromat. We looked at each other and understood. As my hand gripped his knee he pulled straight through the row of fuel pumps, exited the parking lot, and we kept going until we found a large Exxon station.
