Without local air service, we've
now become an airport shuttle.
The other day on our way home
from Billings we stopped off for
an early supper at The Busy Bee
Cafe in Roundup. Given we pass
through only two towns during our
two hour drive, our dining options
are limited. We knew the Busy Bee
had a "Broasted" Chicken Dinner
Special. Plus they make a damned
good Rhubarb Custard Pie! Just
what we needed on the way home!
Even though is was around 3 p.m.
and a national holiday the place
was packed. It was filled with all
of the usual suspects... cowboys,
ranchers, ladies lunching, and a
family chowing down. We settled
into our booth, got comfy, and then
ordered from our friendly waitress.
I love local places like this as they
always capture the essence of their
community. The Busy Bee is simple,
spotless, and in it's way... humble.
And that's just the way I like it.
Suddenly a larger than life gravely
growl broke our solitude. "How are
you sweetie?!" Strolling across the
room was a lady of advanced age.
All dolled up in her wash and wear
floral pantsuit, heels, and jewelry,
she seemed ready for anything. Her
makeup amply yet carefully applied.
Her head topped by a lush mound of
brown curls shaped into a massive
beehive. She was mesmerizing.
Frank and I couldn't stop staring.
She was a sight to behold...
She had obviously not dressed for
an afternoon at The Busy Bee. It
was obvious that her appearance
was not an isolated incident. In a
town where everybody looks like
they just rolled out of bed, you've
got to respect an old gal for putting
on the dog! Over the top, she sat
and chatted with the table next to
us. Keenly aware of our interest,
it was apparent that at one time
she could work a room and honey,
she was busy as a bee!
Upon closer inspection all that
glittered was not gold. Her coif
was obviously a wig. A few grey
wisps peeked out from the back
of her neck. Her dangling earrings
were of the plastic variety. Her
makeup slightly smudged. None
of that mattered when combined
with her repartee. After several
minutes of chit chat, she loudly
announced that she would be at
the bar sipping a glass of wine.
Suddenly the room felt empty.
Don't you wonder about gals like her?
Where does she live? What does she
do? And most important, what is her
story? Mother considered women like
her "coarse". However I think there's
nothing as vulnerable than an elderly
broad. You see, they once knew how
to leverage their assets. Sadly as time
advances, assets became liabilities.
Will I someday sit in a booth in my
tattered designer regalia telling tales
of my youth in Manhattan? Stranger
things have happened... who knows?
