Humble Pie for Breakfast

Pride goeth before a fall, and there are all kinds of, "falls."

Let me tell you a perfect example from my past.


We left Southern California in the early evening, my new husband, my mosquito bites. and I, enroute to the Pacific Northwest. The bites had been acquired during a fishing trip a few days before, and were now itching something awful.

I had worked for eight hours, the last day of a two-week notice, and anticipated sleeping during the night while my husband drove. I would do the day-time driving.

Just after sundown, my mate informed me that he didn't see well driving in the dark...that the oncoming lights blinded him. Oh, goody. We changed places. Almost immediately there was the sound of contented snoring beside me.

It was a long night. By six in the morning my eyes burned, my back hurt, and the mosquitos bites hadn't let up for a minute. And,believe me, it isn't easy to drive and scratch your ankles at the same time When we stopped for breakfast I had the temperment of a wounded grizzly bear, but kept it inside of my twitching body. I prided myself, (oh! oh! there's that word) on always remaining cool and calm.

We entered a crowded restaurant, seated ourselves and waited. Then, we waited some more. We called to a waitress, she waved. Forty-five minutes passed, and so did my appetite for ham and eggs. Tears of frustration threatend, but I would never make a fool of myself like that. When the waitress DID come to take our order, I pulled myself up to what I thought was a regal pose, expounded at length on the inadequacy of the help, the owner, and the entire operation.

The other patrons stared our way, as I at last gave my order. In what I assumed to be my most queenly manner, I then stated, with perfect inuunciation, "Bring me a HUP OF CAUGHT CHOCOLATE AND A BOOTER HORN!!!"