Return to the Ponderosa

"Ma'am?"

Do you remember the first time you were with a girl, or do you, girlfriend, remember the first time it happened to you? It's the kind of thing that would happen in a coffee shop. Perhaps the morning after a really great night before. And you're both twenty-something and she's wearing your rumpled shirt and all smiles and happiness. And then the waitress comes up, the one who's not too happy, doesn't like cute girls, resents every moment of the last 4 decades of her life-- she comes up and asks the boy, "Coffee?" And he, all warm and fuzzy, "Yes, please." And then Madame Resentment turns to the beautiful young woman looking over her reading glasses and order pad, looks her dead in the eye, "Ma'am?" No more smiles on the girlfriend's face. "Ya, coffee."

The waitress turns on her heel and walks off. End of warm and fuzzy morning. "Bitch! That f&%#ing bitch just called me ma'am! I'm not married! I'm not thirty eff'n years old! Where does she get off calling….." It's such the end of a beautiful morning. I've never understood that experience so well as I learned the other evening.

Against our better judgement we returned to the local Ponderosa buffet restaurant Thursday evening. Always a challenge. I'm usually able to do it but it's a tough pill for Tam to swallow. But Ev somehow had his heart so very set on eating there we had to saddle up and head to the Pond.

If the buffet tables filled with high fat, high sodium, high sugar, carbs and deep fried pieces of meat-like-substance couldn't scare us away, then the parade of ultra-heavyweight customers sure as hell should have. Or the 16 month old sitting in her highchair sucking down an orange pop. And if all that really wasn't enough to remind us why we didn't want to be there, then the guy wearing the red tee with the Coca Cola script across the chest which read, "I Enjoy Vagina" really truly shoulda been the sign we needed. (Seriously. They make these things. How have I gone 55 years and not had one of these?! Can someone tell me?!! )

Just in case you think I'm kidding.

But I digress. None of that stopped us. We step up to the cute teenage girl at the register, and we order three salad bar buffets. And then it happens:

Girl at the register, looking at Evan: "How old is he?"
Tam: "He's five."
Girl: "What'll he have to drink?"
Tam: "White milk."
Girl: "And you?"
Tam: "Sprite."
Me: " And I'll have a Coke."
Girl, looking directly at me, "One senior salad bar?"

I was nearly speechless but quickly recovered enough to ask, "At what age?"
Girl: "55."
Goddammit anyway!

At least she didn't say 65. I saved a buck.