A Helluva' Pickle

New York State is huge and I've learned that the hard way through the years; driving most of it on a rather routine basis. I know a lot of good places to eat, though - go figure.

This week I was in between Geneva and Watkins Glen when I remembered a gas station/diner that served actual hot lunches that were certainly better than what Mickey D's has to offer. It's a real bonus to watch your lunch actually being prepared.

The place was empty except for the two middle-aged women behind the counter. They were in the middle of a conversation about the daughter of the full-bodied woman at the grill. "So, I told her, you're sixteen, you're pregnant, and that piece of crap ain't going to help you."

It was about then that the other woman noticed me. "Can I help you?"

I ordered a cheeseburger, and the big woman tossed it onto the hot grill, and returned to her conversation about her daughter. "So these kids are 16 and they're going to raise a child of their own. Can you imagine?"

The skinny woman shook her head and looked up at me. "Her daughter is beautiful," she said to me. "I told you she was going to have guys lined up for her," she said to her friend.

"Yeah, well, she should get rid of it. I told her that," the woman flipped my cheeseburger.

"You have kids?" she asked me.

"Three," I said.

"Any teenagers?"

"One boy is 15," I said.

"Oh boy!" she said. "Can you imagine if he got a girl pregnant? What would you do?"

I wasn't real comfortable having the discussion and couldn't believe how breezy this woman spoke of some real difficult situations.

"I'm lucky if he remembers to put his shoes on before he leaves the house," I said.

The woman laughed. "Exactly! Now imagine if he came home and said he wanted to get married because he has a baby on the way. What would you do?"

I could smell my cheeseburger. I didn't want to answer. I just looked at the floor.

"Yeah, there's not much to say," the woman said. She turned to her friend once more as she slapped my burger on a roll and added lettuce and tomato. "She isn't living with me. I've been busting my ass for years. I don't need another baby around."

The woman laughed. She wrapped the burger and tossed it into the bag. I thought of the fact that her kid and the teenage father had robbed themselves of a lot of life.

I considered my own children, and the fact that if they did get into such a pickle, that I'd be able to help them without such public disdain. Those poor kids were in for a long, hard life.

"Can I get a pickle with that?" I asked. (After I had reminded myself of the pickle).

I'd love to tell you that the troubling conversation and the uncomfortable feelings had cured me of stopping at that particular rest stop... I'd love to tell you that, but that freaking cheeseburger was awesome.

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