A Funny Thing Happened on the Way Home From the Beach

This is the last story I need to relate about my beach trip. After this, I'll speak of it no more. Maybe. :)

A--- and I drove down in my car (read: I drove, A--- rode) so that there were two cars with us at the beach, and so that I did not have to ride in the car with C------ for six hours. So, naturally, A--- and I came back together.

We decided we were hungry around normal people lunch time, found an exit with several options, and pulled into a Burger King. Our meal was fine, nothing out of the ordinary. I was so hungry that it didn't even matter that I don't like Burger King.

Anyway, we filled up our cups for the road, and walked out into the witheringly hot afternoon. Two BK employees were standing by the door taking a smoke break. One of them started talking to us. He asked how we were, and we said fine. He asked if we were from there, where ever there was, and we said no, so he asked where we were from. I told him Huntsville as I dropped my purse while trying to fish my keys out of it.

"Oh, yeah, up Madison County. Huntsvegas!"

That made me stop and look up because I've never heard anyone not from HSV or the surrounding area call it Huntsvegas. I asked if he was from here, and he said no, but he had some friends up here.

Finally, I got my hands on my keys and the doors unlocked. As we were ducking into the car, the guy said, "So, uh, can I get a phone number, so I can holler at ya when I'm up there?"

A--- slid into the car, and I smiled and said, "Sorry, no."

When I got in, she was laughing. "I wonder if they know their employees are in the parking lot harassing customers on their break."

"We should go through the drive through and tell them," I laughed as we pulled off with the guy still watching us.

So, it's not true that I never get hit on. It is true that I never get hit on by guys that I would actually date.