Red Eye: Lobster Zone

The following night, my mother, uncle and I went to Whitey's Fish Camp for dinner. What used to be in crap-all nowhere is now being chased by suburban sprawl. The drive used to be mainly pine trees and a few homes, but now the trip sports cookie cutter apartment complexes and condominiums and an enormous mega-strip mall, replete with every chain store and restaurant under the sun.

Whitey's has a huge menu, more than half of it fried. It won't increase your life span, but it sure is good. (Want to know where to get frog legs and gator tail? Here's the place!)

Just in front of us in the parking light were two women, one with two towheaded and rather under-controlled young boys. "Let's not sit next to them."

In the entrance, they had one of those mechanical claw "prize" machines. Except instead of stuffed animals, this one sported live lobsters. Unfortunately, it had an "out of order" sign on it. :(

We told stories and lingered after dinner until someone further down the large porch started smoking. Time to go.

---

The medical supply company had removed the hospital bed during the day. Bandit was waiting for me on the guest room bed.