So I used to wait tables in a barbecue restaurant. That's a cool way to start a blog post, right? My kids were little, and it didn't really help much in the money department, but it gave me a few days a week where I could get out of the house. It was only open Thursday - Saturday, so I had a babysitter come take care of the kiddos, and I would spend those days waiting tables and dishing up barbecue. It was good food too!
The restaurant was a quaint little cabin situated on the main highway going through town, so we had quite a varied clientele. There were the regulars that were addicted to the pulled pork, ribs, and chicken and they would come in every week, as well as folks who happened to be driving by with their windows down only to be assaulted by the delicious smells wafting out of the chimney.
As with any restaurant, we had a huge lunch rush and a pretty steady dinner crowd, but between about 2 and 4pm, it was just EMPTY except for the few that came in to grab a big spread for tailgating or weekend parties. My fellow employees and I would sit at the tables waiting for business to pick up again, and we entertained ourselves with the newspaper, peeling potatoes, and gossip. This was before cell phones, sadly, so you couldn't sit there for hours on Facebook. Heck, it was even before Facebook. I had this little pocket PC thingy (any of you ancient folk remember those?) that I would play solitaire and snake on, and one of the other employees (Rick) would grab it sometimes and play for a while. He would get so irritated if he couldn't beat my high score, and boy when he beat me, he would dance all over the restaurant like he'd won a gold medal.
So there was also this place called Cowboy Bills where all the rednecks went on the weekend to drink beer and line dance or whatever is done in establishments like that. (Hang on, I'm going somewhere with this, guys.) Occasionally they would have some kind of special event that involved hanging flyers in places of business around town. So one Thursday afternoon, a gentleman came in the restaurant and asked if he could hang a flyer. The owner said it was OK, so he puts it up by the register. I took a look at it and saw that there was a band coming to play that weekend. So I turned to Rick and asked him if the band was any good. His reply, "Well... they don't SUCK." That answer made me laugh so very hard, and even now when I think about it, I get a huge kick out of it.
I actually did have a reason for bringing that story out of the archives, besides giving someone a snicker that might be reading. When I sat down to decide what to write about this week, I thought about how this block is going so far. I have about two more weeks left in the block, and usually about now I'm in panic mode because I'm sure I've screwed something up and am going to pay for it over block break. So far, I've managed to pass everything. So when I reflected on how I feel right now about medical school, all I could come up with was, "Well, I don't suck..."
So if you're ever in Milledgeville, GA and need something to eat (and it's Thursday - Saturday), hit up Paradise BBQ. It's the best ever.
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