So my parents called and said, hey! Let's have lunch at Little America!
Okay, before I go on, I must say I love to eat at the Little America. because the whole vibe there is just of another time and place. It's all Marriott Hot Shoppe-y--the kind of place where ladies go to eat chicken fried steak after having their hair done and before playing bridge.
We had a nice lunch, even though they started to argue about the fastest way to get from the Orem Public Library to Harmons to Costco. What did I think? They wanted to know. Should you go to the library, Harmons and then Costco? Or should you go to the library, Costco and (finally) Harmons.
I did my best NOT to get involved in this parental fracas because you know how it is when people start arguing about short cuts. There's no convincing the other party that they're wrong. Ken, for example, always likes to take these wild, roundabout ways so he can avoid stop signs. Meanwhile I'm just sitting there in the passenger seat going DUDE! CAN YOU NOT SEE THAT WE HAVE GONE SO FAR AFIELD THAT PEASANTS WITH GOATS HAVE COME OUT OF THEIR HUTS TO WATCH US AVOID STOP SIGNS?
So you see I have shortcut fracases of my own to attend to.
Finally, my dad got up, bummed a pencil off a waitress, and started drawing me a map on the back of a placemat so I could see for myself that he was right. Then he handed the map to me and asked, "Which way you would go?"
Both of my parents looked at me like birds of prey, waiting for my answer, ready to pounce. And there I was, an innocent little field mouse who had innocently accepted their invitation to do lunch at the Little America. So I took that pencil from my dad and said, "Here's what I would do. First, I would go to In n' Out Burger and get a Number Two combo." Then I drew a picture of In n' Out. "Second, I would go visit my friend Doni." Then I drew a picture of Doni's house. "And after that I would go back to Salt Lake because I didn't need to go to Costco or Harmons or the library anyway."
I know. I'm a genius.
Afterwards when my dad left the table for a few minutes my mom told me in confidence that men his age feel threatened when you disagree with them. And later when my mom left, my dad said he knew I agreed with him anyway.
Parents. What are you gonna do with them?