Fathers and Daughters

I’m in a frisky mood tonight and I just ran across a blog post about a father-daughter day, so I was reminded of a fathers-and-daughters story of my own. FAIR WARNING!!! This one is not for the easily offended (but it is about nature).

Picture us on a company field trip. We performed biology field work in a miserably cold winter wind all day long. We were windburnt, poison ivied, dehydrated, hungry and just plain whupped from the cold and the rough terrain. All day long we had used hand clippers on our hands and knees to tunnel through greenbriar and poison ivy thickets rather than hack our way with machetes. We were really very tired and stupid by evening, so you can hopefully understand our slowness to comprehend things. You should also know that the city was a coastal tourist town, and the biggest convention there that day was one for new-car dealership owners. Thus, there were a lot of lonely, middle-aged, rather affluent men in town without their wives. Got the picture?

Stupefied, we returned to the hotel that evening, showered and stumbled downstairs to the hotel restaurant below for dinner. We ordered our food and were having before-dinner drinks on our client’s dime, and I’m not talking about iced tea. Of course, that made us even stupider, but what’s your point? Cindy glanced over at the table next to us and noticed that there was a pair of beautiful young women sitting with a pair of fat, middle-aged men, and she said, “Oh look, there’s a couple of fathers and daughters having dinner together!” The rest of us discretely looked over at the foursome and allowed as how, yes, they did make a nice pair of fathers and daughters, and then returned to our own conversation and libations.

But something nagged at me a bit about the scene, so I looked again and saw one of the women lightly slap the hand of one of the men that had gone where it shouldn’t have gone in a restaurant, and it was then that I noticed that the dining room was filled, literally filled with “fathers and daughters.” I kid you not, that room had a hundred alluring, fetchingly dressed young women sitting with a hundred fat, middle-aged new car dealers, and with the glee that only a 25yo tipsy bachelor can muster, I pointed this out to my group. The look on Cindy’s face as she realized what was really going on was absolutely priceless – a kind of a shock that turned to horror that eventually relaxed into exuberant humor!

Myrtle Beach, Virginia sure has a lot of starlets.