The Everglades, True Story
I remember a long time ago, I think I must have been nine or so, my family took a trip way down south the the Florida Everglades with my Grandfather. The Everglades had what you would expect a swampy marshland to have, Swamps, marshland and Alligator farms. I remember having a ball when we all went on an air boat tour. We didn’t see to many wild alligators; not that alligators can be domesticated. It was all good and fun until we stopped for food.
My Grandfather is known for being a bit eccentric at times. A fearless man who gets his kicks from scaring and teasing his children and grand children. He was, and still is, the definition of a pain the ass. His idea of a good lunch stop was a secluded restaurant in the backwater country of the Everglades. I remember him rearing off the main road to an exit that was not paved. Inside the car i watched the trees get thicker and thicker the farther down the exit we went. Slowly the Oldsmobile we were station in pulled up to a large white tent. We all exited the car, my mother holding fast to my sister and I.
I noticed under the tent sat six aged and faded wooden picnic tables. Connected to the tent was a mobile trailer. A man came up to greet us from inside the Mobile trailer. He wore a, what used to be white but now is yellow, short sleeve shirt. Over the shirt sat the straps of dirty denim overall. What i found to be the most amusing about the man was the way he spoke. All the words that left his mouth inflected in a southern twang.
Being so young I had never bared witness to an actual southern accent before. I couldn’t help but giggle as the man greeted us. My sister joined me after a couple seconds. The fit of giggles were abruptly interrupted as my mother yanked both my sister and my arms, giving us a glare that prompted us to, ‘shut the hell up or else!’.
Our host lead us to a picnic table towards the front corner of the open tent. The picnic table had a red checkered table cloth over it, it made me wonder how old and dirty the table actually was. He left us to get comfortable and soon returned to give us utensils to eat with. What he placed in front of me is still one of the most juxtaposed objects i have ever witnessed in the everglades. A plastic fork and knife rapped and sealed in their own plastic baggy. It was just strange for a backwater everglades restaurant to have the modern convenience of disposable utensils.
He then handed out the menus to the four of us and went on his way. The menu was even stranger. I didn’t think much to look at the menu at first, i already knew i wanted a burger but when my mother shrieked in horror from the content my curiosity peaked. My mother was not one to be grossed out easily. She is tough and blunt woman of New York. If she shrieked in terror, there had to be a good reason. I picked up my menu and whipped it open. My Grandfather, always quick to poke fun at his daughter, began to laugh in a uproar. As he laughed I flashed over the menu as fast as my eyes could read, and there i found what had bothered her so much. There under the entries section was
‘Alligator,’
I think my eyes bugged out because my Grandfather leaned into the table towards me and asked, “Whats-a-matta kid? You never seen aint never seen ‘Alligator’ as a main course?”
I remember opening my mouth to answer but not getting the chance. Our server had returned to our table a pad and pen ready for out orders.
“It taste like chicken, ya know.” our server stated with his southern twang. He lifted his pen and pad ready to write, “Ya’all ready for yur orders to be taken?” he asked.
My mother closed her menu and order cheeseburgers for her, my sister and I. Unfortunately i don’t remember what it was my Grandfather order. no doubt it was something that made my mother wretch. With that she finished off the order with a can of Pepsi and two glasses of water.
Our server returned in minutes with her soda and our water. We all thanked him and went back into our trivial conversations. My sister and I talked about the alligators and crocodiles we had seen that day while my mother and grandfather talked about adult stuff. As my sister and I got louder and louder my mother turned to tell us to be a little more quiet. Upon turning her elbow clumsily knocked into the open can of Pepsi. The can tipped over spilling the contents, soaking the red checkered table cloth. Needless to say my mother flipped out. All of her nerves and worry about the backwater restaurant came flooding out. She cried, which is quite the statement. I had never in my entire life had ever seen her cry about anything.
My Grandfather looked at my mother and said, “Oh knock it off Colleen! It’s just soda. Your being ridiculous.” Our server ran over with a series of napkins and started to dab at the soda dampened table cloth all while trying to calm my mother.
“It’s alright darlin. My son, Junior, just did that the yesterday. I told the boy ta watch his elbows. and ya know what he said ta me? ‘But Pa, I can’t watch ma elbows, its just not possible.’ “ Our server laughed and continued,
“ And so i told ‘im, it was an expression for being a little more careful. Kinda like crying your pretty little face off over split milk.”
With his point made and the soda spill no longer so damp Our server smiled and went to the trailer to pick up our orders. My mother sat quietly and continued to do so after our food was brought out. My sister and I quietly chatted to each other. We didn’t say to much to our mom, it was very noticeable that she was still very shaken by the surroundings.
Now that I’m an adult i have my own thoughts on what was going through my mothers mind. A couple days ago my mom told me that my grandfather took my young cousins to the Everglades. I wondered momentarily what kind of adventure they went on while down there. My wondering was soon crushed by my mother. she stated that the kids complained the whole time. With the topic ripe for picking i then asked my mom why she was so tense while at the everglades tent restaurant so many years ago. She then confirmed my suspicions when she said, “Have you ever seen the movie Deliverance?”
My Grandfather is known for being a bit eccentric at times. A fearless man who gets his kicks from scaring and teasing his children and grand children. He was, and still is, the definition of a pain the ass. His idea of a good lunch stop was a secluded restaurant in the backwater country of the Everglades. I remember him rearing off the main road to an exit that was not paved. Inside the car i watched the trees get thicker and thicker the farther down the exit we went. Slowly the Oldsmobile we were station in pulled up to a large white tent. We all exited the car, my mother holding fast to my sister and I.
I noticed under the tent sat six aged and faded wooden picnic tables. Connected to the tent was a mobile trailer. A man came up to greet us from inside the Mobile trailer. He wore a, what used to be white but now is yellow, short sleeve shirt. Over the shirt sat the straps of dirty denim overall. What i found to be the most amusing about the man was the way he spoke. All the words that left his mouth inflected in a southern twang.
Being so young I had never bared witness to an actual southern accent before. I couldn’t help but giggle as the man greeted us. My sister joined me after a couple seconds. The fit of giggles were abruptly interrupted as my mother yanked both my sister and my arms, giving us a glare that prompted us to, ‘shut the hell up or else!’.
Our host lead us to a picnic table towards the front corner of the open tent. The picnic table had a red checkered table cloth over it, it made me wonder how old and dirty the table actually was. He left us to get comfortable and soon returned to give us utensils to eat with. What he placed in front of me is still one of the most juxtaposed objects i have ever witnessed in the everglades. A plastic fork and knife rapped and sealed in their own plastic baggy. It was just strange for a backwater everglades restaurant to have the modern convenience of disposable utensils.
He then handed out the menus to the four of us and went on his way. The menu was even stranger. I didn’t think much to look at the menu at first, i already knew i wanted a burger but when my mother shrieked in horror from the content my curiosity peaked. My mother was not one to be grossed out easily. She is tough and blunt woman of New York. If she shrieked in terror, there had to be a good reason. I picked up my menu and whipped it open. My Grandfather, always quick to poke fun at his daughter, began to laugh in a uproar. As he laughed I flashed over the menu as fast as my eyes could read, and there i found what had bothered her so much. There under the entries section was
‘Alligator,’
I think my eyes bugged out because my Grandfather leaned into the table towards me and asked, “Whats-a-matta kid? You never seen aint never seen ‘Alligator’ as a main course?”
I remember opening my mouth to answer but not getting the chance. Our server had returned to our table a pad and pen ready for out orders.
“It taste like chicken, ya know.” our server stated with his southern twang. He lifted his pen and pad ready to write, “Ya’all ready for yur orders to be taken?” he asked.
My mother closed her menu and order cheeseburgers for her, my sister and I. Unfortunately i don’t remember what it was my Grandfather order. no doubt it was something that made my mother wretch. With that she finished off the order with a can of Pepsi and two glasses of water.
Our server returned in minutes with her soda and our water. We all thanked him and went back into our trivial conversations. My sister and I talked about the alligators and crocodiles we had seen that day while my mother and grandfather talked about adult stuff. As my sister and I got louder and louder my mother turned to tell us to be a little more quiet. Upon turning her elbow clumsily knocked into the open can of Pepsi. The can tipped over spilling the contents, soaking the red checkered table cloth. Needless to say my mother flipped out. All of her nerves and worry about the backwater restaurant came flooding out. She cried, which is quite the statement. I had never in my entire life had ever seen her cry about anything.
My Grandfather looked at my mother and said, “Oh knock it off Colleen! It’s just soda. Your being ridiculous.” Our server ran over with a series of napkins and started to dab at the soda dampened table cloth all while trying to calm my mother.
“It’s alright darlin. My son, Junior, just did that the yesterday. I told the boy ta watch his elbows. and ya know what he said ta me? ‘But Pa, I can’t watch ma elbows, its just not possible.’ “ Our server laughed and continued,
“ And so i told ‘im, it was an expression for being a little more careful. Kinda like crying your pretty little face off over split milk.”
With his point made and the soda spill no longer so damp Our server smiled and went to the trailer to pick up our orders. My mother sat quietly and continued to do so after our food was brought out. My sister and I quietly chatted to each other. We didn’t say to much to our mom, it was very noticeable that she was still very shaken by the surroundings.
Now that I’m an adult i have my own thoughts on what was going through my mothers mind. A couple days ago my mom told me that my grandfather took my young cousins to the Everglades. I wondered momentarily what kind of adventure they went on while down there. My wondering was soon crushed by my mother. she stated that the kids complained the whole time. With the topic ripe for picking i then asked my mom why she was so tense while at the everglades tent restaurant so many years ago. She then confirmed my suspicions when she said, “Have you ever seen the movie Deliverance?”