March 12, 2007

A Pilgrimage To Paradise Part 2: The Fort Lauderdale Old Country Buffet

Todd Junior is lying on his belly on the roof of the cabana in the late morning sun with a water balloon in each hand, snickering and waiting for Little Suzie to come around the corner. Little Suzie is in the bathroom making up names for each of the 173 lizards who live in the toilet and keeping an eye on the time. She wants to make certain that Todd Junior gets enough sun out there on the roof of the cabana to actually go right past sunburned and straight to extra-crispy.

Mom is sitting in the shade by the pool with Grandma, sipping iced tea and chatting about Great Aunt Ellen’s gall bladder. Dad is around the corner at the Pompano Porno Emporium trying to buy a copy of the New York Times, reasoning that, “After all, it is a bookstore – sort of.” Grandpa, wearing a sweater, a ski jacket and a stocking cap, is rummaging around for his bottle of brandy and his earmuffs.

Bernie the Schnauzer, who had dozed off in a patch of sunlight, is being carried across the parking lot and toward the dumpster by two optimistic cockroaches.

It’s day three in The Family’s stay at the Golden Palmetto Bug Motor Lodge in Pompano Beach, Florida. The highlight of the trip so far has been yesterday’s gala Early Bird Special at Big Norma’s Winn-Dixie View Café. Today, the focus of the fun will be on the traditional visit to the Senior Savings Hour at the Fort Lauderdale Old Country Buffet.

Grandma and Grandpa function on a carefully designed and maintained meal schedule. Grandma keeps a large message board in the kitchen, listing every discount at all of their favorite restaurants, organized by day of the week. For each entry she has a primary and at least one backup option listed – she doesn’t want a repeat of the disastrous 1987 power failure fiasco at Ingrid’s No-Need-To-Chew-It Smorgasbord.

Dad has given up his quest for the New York Times and returns from the Pompano Porno Palace with the pupils of his eyes permanently dilated. Little Suzie’s timer rings, indicating that Todd Junior is roasted to perfection, so she lobs her own water balloon at him from the balcony overlooking the cabana. Mom and Grandma switch topics to Great Uncle Charlie’s colonoscopy. Grandpa has found his earmuffs and his brandy, and has achieved a happy sort of thermal equilibrium.

Bernie the Schnauzer was startled awake and escaped when one of the cockroaches tripped over a Toyota SUV, and is now in the grass behind the pool happily rolling in a nest of fire ants.

Just after lunch, they pack Bernie the Schnauzer in Calamine lotion, and everyone else into Grandpa’s Buick, and they all head out toward the Old Country Buffet for dinner. On the way to Fort Lauderdale they take time to pass back and forth over the Intercoastal Waterway so that Grandpa can point out every wastefully lavish home or boat, along with his cost estimate. Then everybody takes turns speculating on how anyone could come up with that much money.

They reach the restaurant at exactly 4 p.m., along with 1,400 other senior citizens. Todd Junior tries to convince Dad that a dinner plate full of pudding actually does constitute a balanced diet, since it incorporates every food group except broccoli. Mom, Grandma and Little Suzie each make a salad and find a table. Grandpa bumps his forehead on the sneeze shield and drops a mitten in the creamed corn.

On the way home, Todd Junior’s sunburn starts to blister, providing Little Suzie with her carefully planned Anti-Todd Junior deterrent weapon system. Dad falls asleep in an Old Country Prime Rib coma. Mom and Grandma explore the topic of Aunt Meg and Uncle Bob’s twins and their recent adventure with chicken pox. Grandpa heads back to Pompano on the expressway this time, giving up the possibility of repeating Intercoastal Housing Critique in the interest of getting back to the Golden Palmetto Bug by their normal 7:30 p.m. bedtime.

It’s the end of another perfect day. Next week: A Pilgrimage To Paradise Part 3 – A Scientific Interlude With A Two-Headed Cow.

Copyright © 2007, Michael Ball

To offer feedback on this column, click here.