 |
| Stage 1, the Final Leg! |
It was some sort of first-day Ragbrai afternoon miracle, but somehow, the Mayor, the Ranger, and I all managed to stay together to our next "town," Tennant.
And, how, and behold, another miracle: the steam-contraption ice cream stand called Beekman's had only a very short line. I have never had Beekman's ice cream because the lines are like Depression-era bread lines. They sprawl into the street, through yards, and often into corn fields.
Of course, Ragbrai is all about the lines, but these lines are often too much, even more for me. (The longest line I ever waited in was for a jalapeno BLT in a lunch town on my second Ragbrai. My sister, Easy-E, made me do it. And that line wasn't so much an issue of line-i-ness, but ineffective service.)
But, lo, and behold, no line, which means relatively short line. So, I hollered to the boys and we made a stop. The boys, weirdly, were not into the ice cream, so I stood in line by myself, while they waited in the shade.
 |
| Look how close I am to the front! |
As I stood in line, two guys walked through the line right in front of me, which is standard practice, of course. But, one of the guys stopped, right in front of me, and said, "what would you do if I cut you in line?" Or something to that effect, to which I replied, "well, obviously, I would fight you"--totally deadpan.
After four seconds of tense-line-stand-off, he smiled. Then, I smiled. And, he walked on. Don't get in between a chubby girl and her ice cream, yo. Line rules!
The next line-related-observation came after the distracting line-cutters ambled off. I began to listen into the mother and child in front of me.
"What kind of ice cream are you going to get," the mother asked.
"Peach, or chocolate," the kid replied. "Or maybe a little peach mixed with a little chocolate. Do you think they will do that for me?"
As they debated this situation, the ice cream lady told the person at the front of line that they were out of peach for a bit. The kid wasn't listening. He kept contemplating complicated orders. Bad line form, but he was a child.
I tried to remain calm in the light of bad decision making. Perhaps people need long lines to really get committed to their choices. Otherwise, they just hem and haw and then panic at the front of the line. Like when the waitress comes too quickly.
The kid and the mom got to the front of the line without realizing the peach shortage. I dreamed that the lady would just nudge them to the side to wait for peach, while giving me my simple order of a single scoop of chocolate. She didn't.
Instead, we stood, all together under the awning. The kid and mother waiting, patiently for their peach. As they chatted I got the impression that they stopped at Beekman's every day. Damn them! I just wanted it this once!
Finally, after what seemed like forever, because RAGBRAI has a strange effect on the time space continuum, but was really just a few minutes, I got to order, pay and was proffered a cup of deliciously, cold, melty chocolate homemade ice cream.
I retreated to the shade where the boys were relaxing and playing "there's your boyfriend," (the dude with bibs, no shirt, and a beer belly was mine!) and enjoyed.
What I didn't know about Beekman's, because I had never had it, is that a small cup is more than plenty. Soon, I had my filled and shared it with the Ranger and the Mayor.
 |
| Flat Steven helps with Beekman's. |
Then, out of no where, the Mayor sprang up and ran towards the road. We followed him with our eyes and realized he was in complex negotiations with a man in amazing red bike shorts. The result was a picture that featured the red-shorts-guy dramatically pointing as his crotch with one hand, and wrapping his arm around the shoulder of the Mayor. Win.
Soon, the ice cream was gone, as were the boyfriends, and there was no beer in Tennant, so we decided to roll on. The last little bit of the day was glorious, sunny, blue skies, rolling hills. It was a fantastic end to a short first day of RAGBY as we headed in Harlan.
Little did that once we arrived in Harlan, the fun was just about to begin.
And that is where we pick up the story, tomorrow-ish.
No comments:
Post a Comment