3 a.m. Truck Stop Ruminations| Cooking Stories

3 a.m. Truck Stop Ruminations

Well, it's 3:00 AM here on the East Coast. This Director of the Future is not able to sleep, so here I am, blogging at 120+ WPM. Don't YOU wish you typed as fast as I do ... ;-)

The little town I now call home shuts down around 8:00 PM each night. Oh sure, we've got some stores which are open late -- Price Chopper is 24/7 and Wal-Mart is open til 10. Still, most of this town (though they do call it a "city") gets boarded up nice and tight around the 8 o'clock hour.

So, what's a hot Virtual Assistant to do when she's hungry, it's pitch black outside and the thought of cooking makes her want to throw her laptop through the window? Silly goose, she's goes to the 24-hour truck stop. Of course!

My 24-hour truck stop -- and yes, it's all mine and my little corner of the world -- is one of those classic greasy spoons. The menus are always a little sticky and the short order cook dings the bell when an order is up. Scores of 18-wheelers are parked in the back lot and you see their drivers shuffling about. Inside the restaurant the waitresses scurry about, calling all the truckers either "honey" or "sweetie" as they make idle chit chat. (I've noticed these terms of endearment are a bit more syrupy and bright when the waitress is waiting on a Big Tipper. Naturally.) Some of the waitresses remind me of Flo on Alice, with the hair teased just a tad bit too much and the makeup just a tad bit too garish. Still, I dig this place with all its characters and the din.

Are you a people watcher? Boy, I sure am! I suppose that's yet another reason why I dig my truck stop. The old timers mind their own business and enjoy their meal, while the young guns like to make an entrance. And when a pretty girl walks into the place, she's noticed immediately, by the old timers and young guns alike. What kills me is (1) none of these truckers are women and (2) everyone has a mobile phone. I suppose the latter shouldn't surprise me, but for some reason it does. Quiet conversations of "how are the kids, honey?" and "I miss you" and "I'll be home soon" drift through the air. Sometimes I feel sad for these men when I overhear their conversations. I can't imagine how they must feel and how they go through their lives, day to day, so far from home.

Tonight was a good night at my truck stop. I had the chicken fried streak, creamy mashed potatoes and a huge salad. It must be said that was THE best CFS I've ever consumed; mind you, that statement is coming from a lady who's lived in 13 different states (including Kentucky and Tennessee). I got a corner booth, grabbed my book out of my leather backpack and thoroughly enjoyed the meal and the view.

Yes ma'am, it was a good night ... at MY truck stop.