By Bob Comeans
Mom and Dad loved Alaska. They’d catch a plane, ride up to Anchorage, rent some kind of van, toss in a couple sleeping bags, and hit the road for a couple weeks. They never really had an agenda, just wanted to be out in it.
One late afternoon they were poking along below Fairbanks on some back road, and in Alaska most of the roads are, back road, and they got hungry. Daddy pulled their little home on wheels into a roadhouse for some early dinner.
The place was full of summer tourists with much the same idea. Mom and Dad sat down and kind of looked things over. The waitress hurried over and Mom and Dad placed their orders. Halibut for both of them, baked, broiled, or fried, it didn’t matter. Halibut would be good between a couple old sneakers. Salad and veggie for Mom, and salad and a baked potato for Dad.
Shortly thereafter that busy little waitress came back and broke the bad news to Dad, “Sir, I’m sorry but we’ve been so busy we don’t have any more baked potatoes.”
Dad got that little frown on his face like he always did when he didn’t like what he was hearing. Raising up that one bushy eyebrow of his, he looked up kind of sideways at that little waitress and asked, “Now, if the Queen of England came in for dinner and ordered her up a baked potato, would she get it?” “Why, yes sir she would!” the waitress replied confidently.
“Well, she’s not coming, so I’ll take hers.”
Dad got his baked potato.