So, after I got done filling all the paperwork out at Brad's Guns, and talking with the crowd of customers and employees that gathered to admire this classic rifle (It's from 1978, it belonged to the White Mountain Apache Tribal Police, no it doesn't have a forward-assist, no these rifles didn't get soldiers killed in Vietnam, that was because the government bought bad ammo, no I won't sell it to you right now for $3k, oh that's a lovely picture of your build, and yours, and yours, and yours, and that's a funny story about the gun store that had a liquor license, yes I think the BATFE should be a convenience store not a government agency, yadda, yadda, yadda) I decided to have dinner at Al Lago, across the street from the gun store.
Al Lago is a bit overpriced, but it's good food. The wife was with her kin at Kanaskat-Palmer state park, and she's pissy at me anyway right now. So I treated myself. Had a gorgeous ribeye with amazing mashed potatoes and seasonal vegetables, with an excellent glass of local Malbec. Creme Brulee and coffee for dessert.
Anyway, a family began assembling at the table to my left. He was a big guy, with a man-bun, in a t-shirt and shorts. Mother or MIL with him. One precocious daughter. Then the wife arrived, with the other daughter and son in tow. And my first thought was, "dear God. She's straight out of Beetlejuice." I kid you not, she'd done her eye makeup like Michael Keaton. And the hilarious thing was, she was wearing a Beetlejuice t-shirt, with the sleeves ripped off.
I am not judging. I'm sure they are lovely people, and their kids were obviously very smart and very polite. I guess I just find it odd to encounter a family at a pricy restaurant in which mama aspired to be a grotesque from a bizarre movie.
