On a lighter note, that evening we had a delicious dinner at a vast steak house outside of Provo, Utah that had nothing but very large tables that seated 8 to 20 people. We were a tad early for dinner, around 5 PM, so the place was spookily empty, made all the more apparent by the large, vacant tables and the fact that there were 3 of us seated at a table for 8.

I know Mormons are currently the new pariahs of us gay marriage proponents, but back then we regarded them as merely another sect of garden variety religious nuts that are fairly commonplace in any number of shit bucket states across this great land. We joked (quietly) among ourselves about the large tables being for the numerous wives and offspring of the Mormon menfolk as they shepherded their brood into the sprawling room for a meal. Our waitress visibly blanched when my female friend responded to her informing us that they were out of a particular menu item by saying, "Oh, god damn it; then I guess I’ll just have the rib-eye."

When the waitress returned with our food, my friend apologized to her for cursing when she ordered. The waitress forced a stiff little smile and responded, "Can I get you anything else?"

Here’s the thing: The meal was delicious, Peggy Sue’s Diner was long forgotten and our faith in road food was restored.