Overheard

As I was loading groceries into my car, I became aware of an older couple nearby whose conversation had quickly become increasingly loud.

HIM:  This thing isn't working.  (He was pointing his key fob directly at the car and repeatedly pushing it.)
HER:  Huh??
HIM:  (Even louder) This thing isn't working!
HER:  Are you pushing the right button?
HIM:  I've pushed it 50 times!
HER:  But are you pushing the right button??
HIM:  Yes I'm pushing the right button!
HER:  Wait... this isn't our car.  Where did our car go???
HIM:  What?  Its not our car?
HER:  No, this one has black seats.  What happened to our car???
HIM:  Where'd our car go?

At this point I considered going over to see if I could help them.  But just as I finished loading and was about to return my cart, I determined they were okay.

HER:  Look - I think that's our car!  (She pointed to an identical color/model car in the same parking space of the next isle over.)  Push the clicker that way!
HIM:  You think that's our car??
HER:  Yes, push the clicker over there!

The lights flashed and the trunk opened on their car.

God bless old people!  But in their defense, I think I've done the same thing once or twice, and I'm not old yet.

Bob Evans

Bob Evans has never been one of my favorite restaurants, partly because of the mediocre food, but mostly due to the "atmosphere".  We would occasionally go there with Spouse's mother when we lived in VA and took her to dinner on Thurs evenings. 

I'm not sure why but Bob Evans seems to be a big favorite with the seniors.  And of course I have nothing against seniors!  They're wonderful people and they deserve to eat out.  But the seniors I've often seen at Bob Evans seem to have 1 foot in the grave and the other on a banana peel, if you know what I mean.

It can be 105 degrees outside and they will slide their walkers into the Bob Evans wearing Bermuda shorts from the 1970s cinched at the waste with a white belt to keep them up because they've lost 30 lbs since they bought the shorts 40 years ago, with white nylon knee socks, black orthopedic shoes, and a clear tube extending from their nose to their pull-along oxygen tank.  Some of the 'hipsters' will also be wearing a baseball cap with the gasoline station logo on it.

Come on!  Who wouldn't lose their appetite after seeing that?!?!

When Spouse used to suggest having a meal there I would tell him I didn't want to come home smelling like bacon and Ben-Gay.

I think the side orders part of the menu includes Geritol and Metamucil.

Recently Steven & Thad conspired with Spouse and the 4 of us went to dinner at Bob Evans.  Very little if anything had changed since my last visit years ago with Spouse's mom.

First off we were sat at a booth behind a 'mature' couple who had to be 120 years old if they were a day.  She couldn't hear very well so her husband talked REALLY LOUD the entire time, and each time the waitress asked if she wanted more coffee or water the lady would yell "HEH???"

Just a moment or 2 after being seated we heard this horrible wet, gloppy cough coming from the woman at the table across the aisle.  Not a dry, raspy cough, but a big, fat, juicy cough that sounded like she needed a receptacle for whatever she was coughing up.  Steven & Thad looked at me for a reaction and I just rolled my eyes.  The coughing occurred several more times after our food arrived, and hearing it made me not want to eat. 

I've never seen so many wheelchairs, scooters, walkers, oxygen tanks, or canes in 1 place in my entire life!

I'm sure this account will make some of you think I'm a horrible person for talking about old people this way, but its not like I think they shouldn't eat at Bob Evans.  To the contrary, I think that I shouldn't eat at Bob Evans.