The other day, my wife, and our kids and I went to our local In-n-Out Burger (Tee hee! Their name sounds like fuckin!), to enjoy some "real potato french fries" and "real milk milkshakes" and "'real cheese cheese 'real cow burgers."" I love to go to the In-n-Out. I love any place with a menu that limited. You can get a burger, a cheese burger, or a double cheeseburger. That's it. No other entree. No decision about what sort of cheese you want on your burger, or whether you want it mesquite flavored, or slathered with barbecue sauce, or whether you'd really rather have a fish burger, or maybe a healthy salad with three sides of large fries. Nope, you get a burger. Your only choice is about how many, and whether cheese is involved. It's freakin' brilliant.
Well, as sometimes happens in this oh so hectic world, we were NOT the only people there. Damn and drat! The surprising thing, however, was that the restaurant was already very full of very old people.
Nothing wrong with the oldsters. Hope to be one myself one day. But so much gray. . .well, it was a little alarming.
After we got our food (cheap!), we sat at an empty booth (dirty!), and I decided to communicate something privately to my wife.
Ever since my oldest daughter began to talk, my wife and I have employed the time-tested technique of spelling certain words so that the little 'un couldn't understand us. We've become quite adept at it. We can rattle off entire sentences, and still be understood by the other. Subconsciously, I began thinking of it as another language that only me and my wife speak. I mean, every day we manage to talk to one another in a way that a third person in our house couldn't understand, so it's understandable that I would think of it as our private language, right?
As we munched our burgers, I told my wife, "man, there sure are a lot of G-E-E-Z-E-R-S here today." Since the restaurant was crowded, I had to say it somewhat loudly. It didn't occur to me that all of these people around me that I was so openly insulting could, you know, spell. After I realized my error, I spun frantically about, ready to apologize, or better yet, stare down any offended oldsters in the vicinity.
It seems I lucked out. Even if they could spell, apparently they couldn't hear. I didn't see so much as a raised eyebrow among my neighbors.
Well, it was funny to me.
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