THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Friday, March 1, 1996 TAG: 9602290115
SECTION: VIRGINIA BEACH BEACON PAGE: 07 EDITION: FINAL
COLUMN: Over Easy
SOURCE: Jo-Ann Clegg
LENGTH: Medium: 88 lines
My friend Geri was feeling miserable when I ran into her at lunchtime the other day. Her skin was blotchy, her nose and eyes were running. One minute she'd be sneezing, the next she'd be coughing. In the really bad minutes, she'd be doing both at the same time.
Every once in awhile she'd give an involuntary shudder that seemed to start at her shoulders and work its way in both directions through her body.
``Are you OK?'' I asked.
``I'm fine, really,'' she told me. ``It's just that I've been this way ever since I spent four hours in line getting my city decal the other day.''
``You were out there in all that mess?'' I asked. ``I can't believe you waited until the very last minute. What happened?''
``Nothing happened, that's the point,'' she said as she braced herself with a large bowl of clam chowder. ``The renewal form just sat there on my desk for nearly two months, doing nothing.''
I sympathized with her.
``Actually, it really wasn't all that bad waiting in line except for the cold. It was a great place to people-watch,'' she told me, grinning weakly.
``I'm sure it was,'' I said, rolling my eyes. ``At least if you enjoy hanging with people who are absent-minded, too busy to be bothered with things like paying bills or spend most of their time hoping that no one will notice that their check is post-dated by a week or two.''
``Oh, they were much more interesting than that,'' Geri assured me.
``Like how?'' I asked.
``Like a woman in her 70s teaching a 4-year-old boy how to mambo,'' she said.
``Was it her grandson?'' I asked.
``No, the older lady was driving a Mercedes, wearing a mink coat and a six carat diamond and said she had just moved down from New York,'' Geri explained.
``The kid was there with his mother who was wearing orange sweats, a Redskins' jacket and Nikes with holes in them.
``They arrived in a '79 Toyota Corolla with a missing door handle and two nearly flat tires.''
``Boy, you sure noticed everything,'' I marveled. ``So what was his mother doing while he was learning the Mambo?''
``Oh she was busy talking to the woman standing behind her who said she was there because her husband was an attorney and he'd been so busy in court recently that he forgot to take care of getting the decals,'' Geri said. ``I couldn't imagine that the two had anything in common, but they did.''
``And what was that?'' I asked.
``Labor pains,'' Geri said. ``Lots of them. Turns out the lawyer's wife had five children, the Mambo kid's mom had seven.''
``So you listened to an instant replay of a dozen labors and deliveries?'' I asked.
``Everything from the excruciating pains that lasted for 3 1/2 days to the single contraction that produced a 10-pound baby in the back seat of the Toyota on the way to the hospital,'' Geri declared.
``By the time we got to the head of the line they had exchanged phone numbers and were planning on meeting at McDonalds for lunch.''
``So were there any other interesting things that came up?'' I asked.
``Well, there were three ladies from one of the upscale retirement homes looking for a fourth for bridge,'' she responded.
``You mean to play in their club?'' I queried.
``No, to play while they were waiting,'' Geri answered. ``I offered, but then the woman who thought she had a deck of cards in her purse couldn't find them.
``She did find a small box of expensive chocolates that someone had given her for Valentine's Day, though. She started to hand those out but the kid who was learning the Mambo dug in with both hands so they didn't go very far.''
``Anything else?'' I asked.
``I guess not,'' she said, pausing to think for a moment, ``unless you count the sailor who asked everyone 44 and under to tell him their age so he could fill out his Lotto cards.''
``So, except for catching cold the experience wasn't so bad after all,'' I commented.
``No, it wasn't,'' she said, ``but I did say to the Lotto guy that I'd never let this happen again.''
``And what did he say?'' I asked.
``He said ``I'll give you 7 to 5 that I'll see you in the same place at the same time next year,''' she said as she swallowed a big spoonful of clam chowder to ward off the chill that was working its way out from her shoulders again. by CNB