Corked?

We were tired when we pulled into our no-frills motel--it had been long day of travel and we had had a late lunch instead of dinner. Plus, after sitting in the car for many hours, I wanted to walk. We "discussed" our current needs with each other, and I approached the desk clerk to asked if she could (ha ha) recommend a place within walking distance for both ice cream and wine, She barely paused before pointing us to a Perkin's Restaurant with a full bar. I was stunned.

Although there was indeed a bar, it was smokey, so we opted for the restaurant tables. We sat waiting for service for so long that I was able to eventually master the solitaire game left on each table. (The solitaire game should have been a clue to the average wait for anything on the premises, but it had been a long day.) Pretty soon, after awhile, after time had lost all meaning, the hostess came up and apologized for the waitress who was apparently overwhelmed by the duties of socializing with two other tables of local folks (how did we know? by their police uniforms).

Anyway, the hostess offered to get us our drinks and we ordered. This was not difficult as there was only one option in white wines. After a very, very, very long time (okay, time had not completely lost meaning) she returned with a soda and a glass of cold Chardonnay. She apologized for the time it had taken and told us that she had really had some problems opening a new bottle (where was the bartender? I wondered). She went so far as to remark that it seemed as if the bottle was mocking her--we all laughed. The wine was no worse than I would have expected at Perkins and I was comforted by the fact that the bottle had had a cork.

Some five or ten minutes after I toasted my Solitaire triumph with my cold Chardonnay, the hostess approached and asked for my glass of wine back. It seemed "there was something wrong with the bottle." Corked? Tom snatched up the glass and wafted it under his nose. While I tried to explain to both of them that the wine seemed fine, the hostess insisted that she needed to remove my glass and would bring me another. I sent it off, still a bit bewildered, but sure enough, back came another Chardonnay.

Some time later, when the waitress came to take our order we asked her what the problem had been. She airily informed us that the hostess had broken the neck off the bottle of wine when trying to open it. She looked at me. "I knew what had happened, but didn't realize that she had served you out of the broken bottle," she explained.

Wow. There we stood at the exact intersection of honesty and stupidity.

I feel fine so far, though my attorney says I am not out of the woods yet. I'll keep you posted.