Sam and I searched everywhere, I continue. We scoured bookstores,
perused frame shops, explored clothing outlets. We must have
searched for easily - and I am not exaggerating here - a good
half-hour.
Naturally, we grew hungry and weary. As luck would have it, at this
particular strip mall there was a Hooters. Not only that, there was
a game on. A Hooters right there in the strip mall with a game on -
what are the odds?
As fate would have it, the game was an
NBA playoff contest
involving the team I cheer for, the Philadelphia 76ers. And this is
the really amazing part: The game was just about to begin. Somehow,
don't ask me how, just when a game I really wanted to watch was
about to begin, we ended up at Hooters doorstep. How's that for
coincidence?
Sam, by now, had to be starving. "Hungry?" I asked Sam. "Could you
do with some wings?"
"Sure," he said.
Like any good father, I thought it best to feed the boy.
So, there we were at Hooters enjoying - well, enjoying isn't
exactly the word; suffering would be more like it, as we would
really have preferred to be out shopping - some wings, a tall
drink, and the game on the big screen at Hooters, which, needless
to say, has waitresses who, let me add, I didn't notice because I
was shopping for Mother's Day, after all, and it wouldn't be
right.
Well, the game was close and Sam still seemed a little hungry.
"Potato skins?" "Sure." What could I do but stay for the second
half? As the game wound down, I had a brainstorm: "You know how
your mom really likes coffee?" I asked Sam.
"Yeah?" he said.
"I bet she'd love her own personal coffee mug."
He looked at me, I remember, with the skepticism of a person
unsure if he is being conned.