I was at Silly Al’s Pizza in Quartzite last week with my wife and some like-minded friends, feeling very patriotic and hungry. The joint was crowded, and the chatter quite loud, yet I knew our wait would be well worth it. Al’s Hawaiian pizza is the best in Arizona—per my taste buds.
We were boondocking in the desert near Bouse, Arizona, so time didn’t really matter to our group. For those who’ve never heard the term, boondocking is a relatively new camping term. I prefer camping instead, as boondocking sounds a bit hickish.
While we stood in line waiting for a table, a lady embarrassingly accused us of cutting in line, which was not true. It was finally pointed out by someone else that our group was ahead of hers. Ignoring the information, this Karen, still red in the face, continued to whine. I suppose she will be for quite some time.
Mark, Steve, Jim, Richard, Joleen, and I were attempting to carry on a conversation to no avail. I decided to perform a little ‘people watching’ as I often do in circumstances like this. A foursome sat at a table next to us, and after finishing their pizza and beer, they stood up.
I wasn’t sure which fellow the attractive brown-haired woman was attached to—my odds being 50-50 on getting things right. Seeing her suddenly clutch the tall, silver-haired guy’s arm, I picked wrong, once again.
It’s difficult to tell such with senior citizens, because some couples age differently. She appeared to be in her late 50s and he in his 70s, although I’d bet they were close to the same. Guessing how old a person is gets harder and harder with each passing year.
A large group of seniors across the room was talking so loudly that they drowned out those around them. Remembering a television commercial for Verizon, I abruptly yelled out, as loud as I could, “Can you hear me now!”
The place went deafly quiet, with people turning heads left to right, while a few grinned, searching to see who the loudmouth was. I innocently did the same. Joleen gazed down at the table, attempting to keep from laughing. Five seconds later, the verbal roar was back, louder than ever.
One table had a man sitting alone, and he appeared to be sad, with several in my group also noticing this. I felt sure the guy was a widower. It seemed logical that Silly Al’s was the place he and his wife always came before she died.
After 15 minutes or so, a group of three chatty gals walked in and sat down at this fellow’s table. The guy was suddenly all smiles. If “Lonesome Larry,” as I labeled him, was a widower, he no longer grieved.
Another customer and his elderly female accomplice caught my eye. The man, in his late 70s or early 80s, wore a Vietnam Vet hat covered in multicolored patches, so I knew he was a survivor of that unpopular conflict. It was good to see that some military members having served in Vietnam are not afraid to advertise the fact.
So many came back home to jeers and hateful language, with a sizable number unable to take it, eventually committing suicide. As I sat there in Silly Al’s, I wondered if this former soldier endured the same harsh treatment without incurring mental anguish.
I also pondered what he now thought of purple and green-haired anarchists and misaligned college insurrectionists violently protesting in the streets, full of hate towards military, immigration agents, and police, who are merely trying to do their jobs. Most likely, this seasoned warrior felt it was Déjà Vu — 1972.
Before leaving Silly Al’s, I walked over and thanked him for his service. He extended his right hand, with the man’s grip being solid and firm. We parted ways, with the fellow saying, “Be careful out there!”
If this country is to survive another 250 years, it’ll be because of patriots like him, and not from the obtrusive and destructive actions of clueless leftist agitators.
That uninformed group never seems to see the big picture. I’d surely hate to bank my children and my grandchildren’s future on their poor and unwise decision-making. Much like the five pizzas on our table that day, I’d love to see them totally disappear!
I like to write junk... 