On Fridays my boss, my co-worker and I go out for lunch. It helps us get through the tedious Friday fidgets, when the sky is clear and the weekend beckons. Yesterday we decided to go to Linda's Homeplate, a tiny little local restaurant with yummy, restaurant-cooked food (I hesitate to say home-cooked because it has not been through a fire or been doused with extinguisher residue). But this may be the last time we stop in there.
My co-worker, Ronna, was in a feisty mood, chattering away, smiling and happy. We ordered our regular burgers (we are known as the "burger ladies" by the Linda staff), except my boss ordered bacon on hers. Such daring, with a casual disregard for conventionality. This set all of us off on a tangent of speculation as to why someone would toss tradition to the wind.
The waitress came back and gave us our regular water glasses and my boss decided to go get some straws. She picked her way through the crowded dining area of regulars and plucked three straws from the bin by the register. This, again, was out of the ordinary. The three of us sat with bubbling excitement, wondering what would next whip us into a frenzy. It didn't take long.
Ronna decided to blow her straw paper at me. She ripped off the end, hauled in some air and blasted that paper toward me with the speed of a semi-automatic. I feinted to my right and the missile flew past my ear, hitting the shoulder of the man in the booth behind us, tumbling down his chest and landing with a FFFffffft in the crook of his elbow.
"What the heck?" he said.
His table mate, having witnessed the entire assault, merely said, "the ladies in the other booth."
My boss and Ronna sat opposite me with identical expressions of horror. I turned my head to see the victims behind us.
Three Washington State Patrol officers.