In a Jam and On the Lam

I'm sure you are aware by now of Val's tireless efforts to help her fellow man. She's selfless like that. So when blog buddy Stephen needs partners for his (now-restituted) crime, to assuage the guilt over his spontaneous Dine & Dash, Val is there for him, eager to step up to the dinner plate and relate her own tale of a long-ago dinner-tab faux pas.

Let the record show that Val is not inherently a mooch. She pays as she goes. Credit card balance paid in full each month. Money added to the principal on her house payment. A tidy savings socked away for her spawn's college fund. Val is not the type to attempt to obtain something for nothing. That's how she was raised. Val would never offer to pay you Tuesday for a pint of slaw today.

Val has led a sheltered life. She tooled off to overnight-college her junior year, in a yellow four-door Chevy Chevette with tasteful tan pinstripes down the side, and a Mary Tyler Moore as Mary Richards kind of attitude. She soon fell in with a rowdy crowd in her field of study. A crowd much more worldly than she. As a weekend ritual, Val and her cohorts often visited drinking and dancing establishments where Val may or may not have imbibed demon alcohol. After such an evening, The Cohorts sometimes suggested an after-hours visit to a restaurant which we'll call "Benny's." Nothing soaks up alcohol in the stomach of imbibers like a Benny's Great Bam breakfast platter.

Waitresses at Benny's lost no love on The Cohorts, party of five. Much in the way cocktail waitresses at a Saturday afternoon Happy Hour shun a gaggle of girls and set down their cocktails with a thin-lipped half-smile, the Benny's staff provided cursory service. Efforts to befriend and empathize were shunned, perhaps due in no small part to the attempt of one of The Cohorts to be flirtatious. That waitress was, perhaps, sheltered, and had never been to college.

The Benny's was way out by the interstate, several miles from the college compound. Val was selected as driver. Whether this honor was a function of her four-door, her sobriety, or her mad driving skillz is moot. Val was the driver. The Benny's was not busy. The Cohorts, a couple of couples, and a sleepy family were not enough to keep the staff busy. The waitress came out, waitressed, and disappeared into the back. Every now and then, another worker would step up to the register, survey the action, and re-disappear.

Since The Cohorts were served their Great Bams, and never visited again by the waitress, a bit of animosity began to fester. The ring leader of The Cohorts was insulted. For wont of butter and jelly which were not forthcoming, she grew bitter. "She didn't even bring us the check! I'm ready to go. Val, why don't you go pull the car around. I'll cover your part, and you can pay me back when we find out how much it is."

Being such a selfless people-person, I headed past the sleepy family making their way to the register, and brought the car around for The Cohorts. Nobody wants to walk any farther than necessary after a Great Bam. Just as my trusty Chevette reached the doors, The Cohorts strolled out and piled in. "GO! LET'S GET OUT OF HERE!" Ring Leader was sure in a hurry to get back to her apartment. Maybe she had to poop.

Then Ring Leader's roommate let the cat out of the bag. "I can't believe we did that! We're going to get caught! GO!"

"Great! It's my car. I'm the one they'll be after! What did you do?"

"Um. When that family walked up to pay, we strolled along behind them, stood for a minute, acted like we were with them, and then walked out when you pulled up."

"Don't worry, Val. You don't owe me anything for your Great Bam!"

"Oh, yeah. And here's your silverware."

Yes. Val is a criminal. Though a sheltered, unwitting criminal. A sheltered, unwitting criminal who tried to stifle her cohorts every time they visited a different restaurant in the chain on the other side of town. Tried to stifle their sing-song salutations to each other in Val's car on the way to a Great Bam:

"Welcome to Benny's! Don't pay for your meal."