"Don't drive the back road to Oklahoma," the man at the other end of the counter at the Friendly Food and Foundry says to me in a friendly tone.
I look up reluctantly from the menu. Everywhere I go people give me unasked for advice. New York cabbies tell me how to get cheap tickets for Broadway shows as if I'm a rube who doesn't know about the ‘Half-Price Day-Of’ places. Vietnamese teenagers giving me a manicure tell me how to get a husband when my left hand informs them I'm single. Now some toothless old cowboy
with shaking hands is
giving me driving instructions.
Maybe I'm just in a bad mood. I’ve been driving for a long time through a West Texas landscape. The only change during the endless ride was the light of day. I'm beginning to wonder whether I’ll ever arrive at my destination - or at least someplace that made it out of the Palaeozoic Age.
Out of pure frustration I turn the spotlight on my advisor.
"The truck outside, the one with abstract art for a windshield? That yours?" I refer to the fact that the entire windshield is latticed with cracks.
He chuckles. "Yes ma'am, it is."
"Happen on the back road to Oklahoma?" I ask, continuing to bait him.
He chuckles again. "Yes ma'am, it did."
"Where in town did you get that nice orange shag carpet for it?" That was just a guess on my part.
"Must be a trick of the late afternoon light, ma'am. It's avocado green, and I got it for a steal in Marble Falls."
I want to say, “So, you stole it,” but I'm saved from further conversation by the arrival of an elderly waitress. Her skin looks just like the man’s windshield.
"Hi," I say. " What's your special?"
"It's Rattlesnake Taco Day" she responds, in a voice rusty as the unidentifiable pieces of iron I had observed strewn outside, at the "foundry."
"Oh. Well then I'd rather have, let's see, how's your --"
"We're serving rattlesnake tacos today."
"Yes, I understand that's your special but I'm more interested in your, um let's see, in your, um - -"
"No, it's not the special today. It's what we're serving today."
Though I try to pay attention to what she's saying, I'm suddenly concerned she doesn't fall down dead over the counter in front of me. That might keep me in this town a bit longer than I would like.
I choose my words carefully. "Ok, what else are you serving today?" I hold up the menu to help her remember this is a restaurant.
"It's Rattlesnake Taco Day. Like I said."
"You mean --?"
"I mean it's Rattlesnake Taco Day and only rattlesnake tacos are served today. On Rattlesnake Taco Day."
I know she won't let me use the bathroom unless I buy food or a piece of iron, so I order a half-order of rattlesnake tacos.I'm tempted to tell her I want the taco half, not the snake meat, but I don't.
Her face changes formation into what it assumes, incorrectly, looks like a smile to the rest of the world. I know she's pleased. I can tell by the extra flirty flounce of her ruffled skirt as she enters the kitchen to call out "One order snake, Billy" and then comes out again for a potential beverage discussion.Snake venom smoothie, perhaps?
Chalk up another victory for Rattlesnake Taco Day is written all over her.
"Betty, I was jist now tellin this young lady that she better not drive the back road to Oklahoma," the man at the other end of the counter says.
"Well hell, Marlon, them's all the back roads to Oklahoma."
"I appreciate the advice anyway, " I speak up, suddenly on the man's side. Of the two, I like him better. Maybe Billy the cook would win the contest, but I haven’t met him yet so I work with what I have.
Marlon throws some bills on the counter, tips his cowboy hat to Betty and me with as grand a gesture as John Wayne used on Maureen O'Hara and starts to walk out the door.
"Mister," I call.
He stops, turns around.
"Why shouldn't I drive the back road to Oklahoma?"
With that friendly, easy chuckle of his he says, "Because me - and others like me - are out there waitin’ for you."
I turn back to the counter and see my order has arrived. A snake head peers up at me from one end of the taco.
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