When on vacation, I dress quicker than my wife, having less hair, and therefore less of a need to blow-dry it.
With the extra time, I find myself waiting for her at the hotel restaurant.
“What will it be this morning?” asks the waitress.
Studying the menu, I am engaged in a fierce internal debate between “responsible” (fresh fruit), and “desirable” (hash browns, bacon, omelet, croissant). Adult overrules inner child and I order “something light,” oatmeal.
Momentarily a bathtub-size basin arrives. Submerged in thick, rich, cream, smothered with a brown syrupy liquid of melted maple sugar, is my hot cereal. Realizing it’s too late to ask for non-fat milk and sugar on the side, I reassure myself the faux pas won’t harm my diet. Everyone knows unintended calories don’t count; fat cells realize the error and disregard the weight gain.
The waitress places a platter of sugary condiments on the table before leaving. At first, I am inclined to resist them, but re-evaluate. Maybe this is a local tradition; it would be rude to offend our hosts. Besides, I’m on vacation; it’s almost an edict that one sample new foods while traveling.
