Lunch..beforele the Ride Home.

You should read the previous Founders Day ride post first, because this takes place during lunch. 

After visiting with the Stongs, the Club,

 wait...

During the Speech Tom made Graveside, he said a Club member had asked why should we want to go to a Cemetery, a  State away, to see a stone for someone he had never met and wouldn't know him if he walked up to him. Tom said, that if Ralph did walk up to him it would be an event.  That's funny.

Anyway, after visiting and paying our respects and introducing newer members to the Clubs origin, we headed to route 141 for lunch at the Village Pizza House. 

As I have said in the past and people who have eaten with me have come to learn, if the Club is stopping for food and you are hungry and want to eat, DON'T SIT WITH ME. For some reason, I am always...ALWAYS at the last table to be served, we can be the first to give our orders, but always, ALWAYS the last served. 

Today...Life out did itself. I sat at the main table, (we took up one long table and two booths). One waitress worked the south side of the Table and Tom who sat at the head of the table, another waitress took the north side of the table and the booths. Not only did the southern boys get their food first, but they got to eat it and receive their checks before the northern boys (my side) got to even see their food. The booths received their food and still we sat. Honest to God, Prime Rib, Seafood Fra Diavlo, and Bacon Burgers disappeared before our plates arrived. Now I could see if it was because we had ordered complicated meals which may have needed extra preparation but, Welles ordered a Greek salad, that's lettuce with a couple onions on it, a few bits of black olives, a couple stuffed grape leaves and three small bricks of feta cheese. He was the next to the last person to receive his food. Remember Giant Prime Ribs had been devoured totally, not a speck of the meat left, not a globule of fat...all gone...before Welles gets his salad. 

I got my plate after him, The waitress actually had to walk back into the kitchen to drag mine out and drop it in front of me. Last of the Last. 

Now I believe our waitress must rely more on her looks than her service for her tips, because she was young and cute, but let me tell you, the other waitress, the older woman, a tiny little older woman, with years of serving experience, ran rings around her. 

Now my waitress may have been cute, but I sure as hell wasn't getting anything from her, so her looks meant nothing,  I'll take Granny and a full plate anytime. It's like going to a strip club, the girl dancing maybe hot, she may be naked, she may be shaking her goodies all over the place for you, but what are you getting? Nothing you can use, (at least not in public)  So now tell me, who's more important, the girl you give the dollars to, to see a skin wiggle, or the girl you give the dollars to that brings you your drinks. Hell...in my book...the waitress wins everytime.