A Hospital Waiting Room

Well, I'm sitting in the waiting room, because my dad's room is a bit crowded right now. I thought it was Deliverance in there until I got in here.

The smell of stale smoke, bad coffee, and ignorance is permeating this room. There haven't been so many black NASCAR jackets in one place since Dale Earnhardt's funeral.

A grandmother is sitting across from me with her legs spread and one tooth showing up every now and then as she talks about playin' cards with Sharon and taking the number 2 back to Proctor. Her name is Elsie. It just fits.

The granddaughter is talking about her "f---in' bus route and how she ain't workin today." She's mad cuz she has to tell her boss how to do his damn job.

Apparently the other granddaughter works in the school lunchroom. She is talking about how the lunch ladies should put all the taco salad stuff on the tables instead of in the line. It'd be easier. Let the kids have a hey day with the lettuce. They won't run out, you know. They got a whole case of lettuce in the cooler. The same granddaughter is pissed because her sons made her late for cribbage the other night.

It has been especially fun to listen to their conversations about education and how "them teachers just pass kids on even when they don't know nothing."
(Apparently they benefitted from this philosophy we supposedly employ.)

Oh - and the doctor for their family member is named Dr. Beaver.

Wish you were here.