I pulled up out front facing the bright sun and turned off the engine, and as soon as I opened the door to get out of the car a wave of heat hit me and I heard the noise blaring from the open windows of the restaurant. What the hell was gong on?
It’s only a little out of the way breakfast and lunch place, the size of a short trailer, and I walked toward the door hearing the noise and was wondering - do I really want to do this. What the heck has happened in the six months I’ve been gone. How much noise can a person stand?
I opened the door of the restaurant and the place was jammed and hoppin'. I scanned around quickly to see if it was a TV or a radio in the corner that was making all of the commotion. There was neither. The racket I heard was nine guys talking - like they were really hot about everything, only it was nothing. There was no big topic, just chatter. Blah, blah, blah.
Talk about women yakking, hah. There was a table of two guys, another of three guys, one of three more, and one guy alone at the counter who was reading the newspaper instead of yakking. He was the odd man out, all the others were cackling away like hens on a roost. I ordered two pancakes and coffee, and settled in. Welcome home, Jack. I know what I can take, and about then I was on the edge, the hillbilly edge.
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