Party of One
My wife had to be at work early this morning, so I dropped her off and headed out to waste some of the 7:45am-9am time. Working on a half of a banana and a glass of water, I planned to consume my spare time by grabbing a sit-down breakfast. How indulgent. There’s a restaurant nearby to work (on the direct route from the parking to our offices – my wife has mentioned it before) that we frequent mostly for breakfast and lunch fare. Food-wise, it’s a mix of diner and pizzeria, with a dash of breakfast-all-day. We know most of the waitresses, and two specifically by name. One is family, even. We couldn’t wait to tell them we were pregnant, as this will probably be the first place Vegas tries out a high chair.
I pulled into the parking lot with my newspaper tucked under my arm, and a pen in my pocket for the crossword. I sat in a booth and ordered my breakfast usual, #2 early bird special (2 egg omelet, bacon, biscuits, coffee) with a small orange juice. Gay Waitress came over, although I was not in her section, to ask me how things were going. We chit-chatted for a good while about her kids (ages 7 and 5) and how she and her girlfriend are contemplating one more, before or after this October when they plan to buy a house. She had high-risk pregnancies both times, she says. Bed rest and severe nausea most of the time, she says, but lots of 3D ultrasounds. But she’s seriously thinking about doing it again, she says. You know, with her girlfriend’s brother as the donor – although he lives in North Carolina… could be complicated, she says. Soon after my food came, we wrapped up the conversation, and she went back to tend to the other “party of one’s” who had wandered in.
I finished up with a biscuit and some strawberry jam while reading about the upcoming NFC/AFC play-offs, skimming through the funnies, and working my way through the across column. I paid my $7 bill as GW called me “sweetie” on my way out. This town continues to amaze me. Really? A $7 breakfast and a lesbian mom conversation with a local waitress, all before 8:30am? That’s badass, man.