So Don & I went out tonight to Sonic to get a Sonic Blast to share for dessert, as we do occasionally. Who knew that our nightly entertainment would be provided along with our tasty dessert?
While we’re waiting for our blast to arrive, a car enters going the wrong way. And they’re obviously confused by the fact all the parking spaces are slanted the opposite direction of their travel. Let’s just say that the parking job wasn’t quite up to par. But they weren’t worried about this, as the adult daughter and wife got out of the car to head into the restaurant…if you’ve never seen a Sonic, they’re drive-in restaurants. Evidently they didn’t realize that there are menus at ALL the parking spaces for a reason. They were obviously told you eat in the car…the husband/father was getting out of the car to follow them in when the daughter & wife returned. The daughter started yelling “Get back in the car! Get back in the car!” Then the husband backed the car up and then got out (the daughter was going to take his place at the driver’s seat)…the wife then yelled “Get back in the car! Get back in the car!” with the nastiest look on her face. Both Don and I immediately felt sorry for said husband, who is obviously being abused by daughter & wife.
It took them a while, but they finally figured out how to order. Their food eventually arrived and they drove off (they left going the wrong direction again…evidently arrows mean nothing to them). Of course, Don and I couldn’t help ourselves. This led to lots of imitations of the wife as we ate our dessert and on the entire way home. We also imagined a nice mistress for the husband so he had some time away from the wife.
I also told Don if I ever acted like that to shoot me. He said he wouldn’t shoot me, he would get his new wife to do it. One, I can’t imagine acting like that to another human being at all…much less in public. I doubt the wife even realizes she created such entertainment and provided such a great subject to make fun of tonight. It will be a while before we forget that.
