Last weekend I took Mark to Scout-o-Rama. It's an event put on by the local Scouting council, and all the packs in the city sponsor activities. There was a zip line, rock climbing, archery, kayaks, and every other boy-centric activity you could think of. There was even a BMX bike demo at the end, which the boys loved.
Afterwards, we had dinner at our favorite restaurant, which has the best fish n' chips around. It's a local pub, more a restaurant than a drinking establishment, but I did draw the line when Mark wanted to sit at the bar.
I always opt for eating on the back patio, but the evening was a bit chilly. There was also a loud, raucous group of college kids out back, yelling and laughing and just generally having a good time. They didn't bother us, but the cold did, so we went back inside.
During our meal, we could hear them quite well. The waitress took our orders amid screams of "Chug! Chug! Chug!"
They were having a good time. It was even more evident when they finally left, holding one another up, and stumbling through the place. They were still laughing, very loudly, when suddenly, one very wasted girl stopped directly in front of us.
"Is that a Boy Scout?" she asked her boyfriend, very loudly, pointing directly at Mark in his Cub Scout uniform.
The boyfriend nodded.
She shook her head, befuddled, and yelled, "Well, then what's he doing in a BAR??" And with that, her friends erupted into a new round of laughter and ambled off.
Mark and I looked at each other and also burst into laughter.
"What's he doing in a bar?" Mark mimicked in a high, girly voice.
"This actually is a restaurant," I told Mark. "Just because she got all drunk in here doesn't make it a bar."
He nodded, and I quickly nudged him. The waitress was carrying in all their pint glasses stacked together, and I swear there were about 30 of them!
"Whoa," Mark said.
"Whoa," I repeated. And thought to myself maybe there are more appropriate places to take my kid for dinner -- at least while he's in uniform.
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