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All this schooling is making my head hurt and all this eating is making my belly hurt. After training today we just headed back to the hotel to rest up for dinner. Instead of driving back to Concord to overeat at Razzoo’s we decided to just walk across the hotel parking lot to Applebee’s and stuff ourselves. Quite a let down from last night. The highlight of the meal was we got to make fun of our waitress.

She came over and took our drink order first. Being as we weren’t driving, alcohol was called for in this sort of situation. Mark ordered a bottle of Coors Light and I asked what kind of dark beer they had. It should have been our first clue when she named off a couple and then asked us if Michelob was a dark beer. I opted for a Killian’s Red (which is brewed by Coors, by the way.) Off she went.

After what seemed a long time later she came back and asked if we were ready to order. Mark and I looked at each other, then back at her and nearly simultaneously asked, “Where’s our beer?” To which she replied, “I’m not old enough to serve you, someone from the bar was supposed to bring you your drinks.” She smiled sheepishly and went away, to return a minute or so later with another person carrying beers. When the helper left I told her we would be polite and not drink any until she left. We both ordered the riblets. After she left Mark said, “I should have asked her if she was old enough to serve ribs.”

When she did bring our meals Mark told me (loud enough so that she would hear), “See, I told you she was old enough to serve ribs.” She smiled slightly. She checked on us a couple times during the meal and when we got about 3/4 way through eating and she showed up I told her to see if she could get one of her assistants to bring us another round.

We got in one more when it came time to pay, Mark asked if she was old enough to take cash. After she left both Mark and I commented that we didn’t think she was waitress material, because if she was she would have taken the ribbing with a little more humor. I think waitressing is a lost art and in the 5 meals we have eaten out so far on this trip we have had one real waitress and one who has potential, the other 3 are just going through the motions because they need the money.

I’d tell you all about the good and the great if I wasn’t so full I’m in a stupor. I think I’ll just turn on the Weather Channel and let the dulcet tones of meteorologists lull me to sleep.

Back in Albemarle for training again, this time for 3 days instead of the usual two. I’ve got the same room in the Holiday Inn Express as two weeks ago. Somebody else must have stayed here in the interim though as I found the torn off corner of a Cheetos bag on the floor near the nightstand.

Mark drove up this time. He wanted his pick up truck because tomorrow when we go the Bass Pro Shop he is going to be buying some things that are way too big to fit in the Miata. This is our last trip up here for training, after this we are experts.

The local High School is only about a mile from my house and because ours is a nice quiet neighborhood the track team uses it as part of their training runs a couple times a week. Tonight I passed several groups of runners in both directions on my rollerblading excursion.

On the way to the Odell Weeks track for my middle mile loop I passed from behind a small group of guys who I smiled at as if to say, “I may be old, but I’m faster than you.” Which is easy if you are on eight wheels instead of two sneakers.

On the way back from my loop I came across a group of a half dozen girls. We were traveling in opposite directions on the same side of the street, so I looked up as we approached so as to not bump into anyone. A cute brunette near the back made eye contact and and shouted, “Yeah, Go Baby!” I smiled to myself and thought, I still got it, 50 years-old and the chicks still swoon.

It was then that I remembered I was wearing a blue sweatshirt with large bright yellow letters that I bought at the gift shop on Annapolis a few years ago. She was saying. “Yeah, Go NAVY!”