GRILL!: The Misadventures of an RV Park Fast-Fry Cook. Diane Stegman

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ by the heavy slow plops of rain hitting the tent, the plops increasing like microwave popcorn. I had to hurry and put the skylight cover back on the tent. By this time the wind had kicked up and it was dark, so I turned on my car lights facing the tent so I could see. It was now pouring, and I was wet and the dogs were panicked. I put them in the car, grabbed all my wet blankets, wet clothes, wet stove, wet tent, and stuffed everything into any and all extra space in the trunk and back seat. Once in the car, I turned on the heater, saw the time (1:30AM), and we watched and ducked the passing thunder and lightening storm until dawn, which was quite beautiful in spite of the circumstances.

      I had not counted on storms. The inside of my car smelled like wet dog and down feathers. All that the storm left in its wake were wonderful puffy pink clouds. I had not removed the fencing, so I put the dogs in their yard and made coffee on my Coleman stove. It was around 5:00AM at this point. I was still wet. I told myself that I could not do this again, that today—no, this morning, I would find a job and a house!

      I began to unload the wet tent and blankets from the trunk to make room for the wet heavy fencing, put the dogs in the car atop the pile of wet blankets in the passenger seat, drove to the restroom and shower area, dried my hair and changed my clothes. By 6:30AM I was back on the road headed south through the national park. After an hour on the road I saw a small café. The day was warming up quite nicely. I parked, got the dogs out for a short walk, and then went in to see if they were looking for any help. I also needed a good breakfast.

      There was no newspaper, so after my wonderful breakfast I approached my waitress with my inquiry. “No honey, this here is a family run place,” the plain looking, middle-aged waitress said as she looked me over suspiciously as if I was being evaluated. I had noticed that the other lady working there was probably her daughter and was about eight months pregnant. “But I do believe that Billy at Hacienda RV Park down the road apiece needs some help,” she continued. As she spoke, I detected a hint of mischievousness that quickly replaced any suspicion that she had about me.

      I bid my thanks and as soon as I was outside I looked down to see if I had egg on my shirt or something that might have looked out of place when the woman gave me the once-over. I wonder what someone must think of me.

      There was not much tourist traffic, but I found myself caught in a line of many heavy-loaded logging trucks driving way too fast. I began to be concerned about the insurance on my car that my son was supposed to get for me.

      At about 8:15 I cruised by the Hacienda, but did not pull in. What in heaven’s name would I do at an RV park? I could see that they had a restaurant, store, and a pond. If I worked there where would I live? This is not a town; this is in the middle of nowhere. I had driven about 20 miles on a deathtrap highway to get here, but decided it was worth the risk to drive on and look for greener pastures. Half hour later, I approached a small town, perhaps not a town, but a motel, café, Post Office, and some scattering of homes. I went into the motel and spoke to the owner. He could see my loaded up car out in the parking lot with what looked like from this vantage point, two rat-like oversized cats sitting in the front seat. “Damn, I just hired someone, but I do believe Billy, down at Hacienda RV Park needs some help. Let me give them a call for you.” I could not hear the conversation that took place in his office, but he returned to confirm that this was so. I began to understand that everyone knew everyone within fifty miles of each other.

      A little while later, I found myself back at Hacienda, dragging my feet up the stone steps to the restaurant. At the entry I noticed a large ashtray overloaded with butts and many had tumbled to the ground below. A large trashcan overflowing with foul trash complimented the scene. A fat trail of ants was thriving to and from the can. Once inside, I realized the spacious log building was actually quite impressive with a bustling crowd of hungry vacationers. I could see that they needed help.

      Inside I could smell bacon and pancakes. The counter for registration was immediately to my left. I saw a person at the counter that could possibly be Billy finishing up with a traveler about his RV space. Suddenly I heard a bellowing male voice coming from somewhere in the kitchen beyond the restaurant seating area. “HEY HENRY, YOU OLD GOAT! YOU EAT ALL THEM PANCAKES AND I’LL LET YA HAVE YUR BREAKFAST FREE!”

      Looking in the direction of the roaring voice, I saw the chalkboard menu with the day’s special. ‘BUBBA’S SPECIAL: BISCUITS AND ROADKILL SKUNK. MADE WITH RATTLESNAKE GRAVY.’ I was pretty sure this was just a local joke of some sort.

      “Kun I help ya?” Said a warm voice from behind me.

      “Yes, my name is Denise and the…..”

      “Oh, you must be the lady looking fur work! I’m Billy.” Now at this point I was not sure of the sex of Billy. It appeared to be in its early seventies with very short salt and pepper hair, wearing a western shirt, and a cigarette hanging out of its mouth. Its kind eyes settled me down, but I remained puzzled. I also noticed at this point the tall gentleman dressed in pajamas who was peeking from behind a doorway. He, too, was in his seventies and looked like an old handsome rancher who had seen better days. Oxygen hoses clung to his nose as he puffed on his cigarette. I think he winked at me.

      Billy saw the direction of my eyes. “That’s Ray, my husband.” Mystery solved. What an odd-looking couple.

      “Yur gonna be my cook.” Billy announced with pride.

      “Pardon me?” I felt my eyebrows rise in shock.

      “I said yur gonna be my cook!” Billy really meant this. The cigarette bounced as she spoke.

      I fumbled for a way out. “But I’m not really a cook per se. I was hoping you might need a waitress or counter help.” I added in a fragile smile for first impression’s sake.

      “Nope, I need a cook.” Billy was staring into my eyes as if I had no choice.

      “Well, that’s very kind of you, but I have to think about it. I guess I need to know if there are any places to rent near here.”

      “No need fur that. Gotta home fur you right here.”

      “Pardon?” Did I really hear that?

      “Right out back. There’s a fifth wheel sittin’ empty. You can live right there.” She is now pointing towards the kitchen area and, I presume, beyond the interior walls to the outside.

      “I have two little dogs.” I warned her.

      “All right with me. We love animals. Have a dog myself.” Sounded too good to be true.

      I got right to the point. “How much?” It better be really cheap for me not to turn around and get back on the highway.

      “How much fur what?” She took a deep drag from her cigarette.

      “I’m sorry. How much to rent the trailer?”

      “Nuthin’! It comes with the job, which, by the way, we pay $6.75 an hour. You split the tips with the waitress.” Billy snubbed out her cigarette in the over-loaded ashtray.

      I told Billy I needed to check out the fifth wheel first and then sleep on it. We walked outside and she pointed out the fifth wheel to me. It looked quite roomy and fairly new. It was parked behind the restaurant and next to the pond on the edge of the park twenty yards from the highway. I inquired about a motel for the night. She suggested a small town off another highway about thirty miles in another direction. I said I’d call her later tonight with my answer about the job, even though I had already made up my mind.

      So that puts me in the current moment at Hacienda СКАЧАТЬ