VF*n*W Weekend Chronicles

There were many sad faces this past Friday when biscuits and gravy were not forthcoming. I’m afraid I’ve set a bad precedent by feeding the truck drivers. However, I did tell the guys that I would be cooking breakfast at the VF*n*W on Sunday should they venture west.

The thing with all the cooking at the Post- we are all volunteers, so you really can’t get to pissy if someone is doing things a little differently than you would. We all have to work together, and nobody is getting paid. But the last few times I have done breakfast, Ralph has shown up.

I do not know much about Ralph. He is not a VFW member, but he comes in on occasion to help out with dishes when we have a meal. Or, that’s what he’s supposed to be doing. Yesterday, he helped himself to four plates of food that I saw, and ran maybe three racks through the dishwasher before, get this, getting out his recorders (flutes) to serenade the diners.

I was mortified.

And it wasn’t that he was awful or anything, but, KNOW YOUR AUDIENCE! Folks come in for a good breakfast and conversion, not some crazy old man walking around playing music! I’m surprised he didn’t pass the hat!

At any rate, I am tolerating this, barely, when some of my drivers and their friends walked in. They were out on their bikes for the day and decided to drop in for my biscuits and gravy. Now, please understand, I love these guys. When they are out on the Harleys with all the trappings that go with riding, they LOOK like bikers. They ARE serious riders. You don’t mess with them.

The guys and gals get their plates full of good hearty breakfast and sit down. I took a break and sat down with them, and up comes Ralph and his damn flute. Playing “You are my Sunshine” to people in black leather and Harley gear.

“Ralph,” says me, “I think I am about to find a new home for your flute”.

Hammer, JB and Stupid Brian are exchanging looks and laughing, because they know what’s coming.

“Freebird!”, says Hammer.

Ralph kept on playing.

“Seriously, Ralph, take it somewhere else or I will stick that flute sideways up your ass.”

He took the hint. He didn’t do another dish all morning, but he stayed the hell away from me.