Fine dining in Arizona.
We arrived in Kingman, AZ late yesterday evening after a long day’s drive from LA.
Had a lovely breakfast with my gracious cousins and then hit the road. It’s the Monk’s first time in AZ and he is very attentive and appreciative of the landscape. All those endless miles of nothing but desert as far as your eye can see. I was road drunk when we finally sat down to a meal at the only place we could agree upon. Cracker Barrel.
OMG
I have never been to a Cracker Barrel and when we parked and saw all the rocking chairs on the wide porch the Monk remembered his last experience at a Cracker Barrel in North Carolina where he went with his Hindu Indian friend and a Christian friend of hers. After the meal the Christian friend confessed to feeling a deep sadness because the Monk and her Indian friend were going to burn in hell because neither of them had accepted Jesus Christ as their savior. The Indian friend asked her if all the Aids work the Monk did in Africa, all the hundreds of people he has saved and helped if that counted for nothing and the Christian friend said, nope, he’s still going to hell.
There you have it.
The Cracker Barrel. First off, everywhere I go with the Monk we get stared at as if we were the strangest things to crawl out of some hole anyone has ever seen. He’s 6 feet tall, 200 lbs give or take, and dressed in long gold robes. Mostly people just stare but occasionally some brave soul strikes up a conversation. Like yesterday while on line at a supermarket, the man behind us politely asked what religion he was. I like that.
Anyway, there wasn’t anyone gonna ask at the Cracker Barrel. I’ve never been anywhere so straight up and down white America before. I could feel every eye on us, a hush came over that cavernous place as we walked to our table. And the food. Oh dear. We’ve been in LA where my cousin is a freakin’ gourmet cook genius and when they took us out it was to farm to table places where the waiter tells you your chickens name and his ancestry. At the Cracker Barrel I’m pretty sure they can give you the sell by dates on the cans if you ask nicely. The Monk was thrilled with all of it of course, especially when they served him an extra root beer float for serving the first one in a broken glass and then a free dessert for giving us the wrong bill. It was the first dessert I’ve ever seen him unable to finish. He says he’s becoming a pussy in his old age.
Planting Along The Verge 
I love the Monk's acceptance of whatever is happening. That's how I read what you've written. What religion is he?
Take care of yourself out there in red state America dear Yolie. What a wonderful adventure it all is.
I love you so.
LikeLike
Oh god. Cracker Barrel. I have a true love/hate thing going with them. Mostly hate. But I LOVE their beans and greens with cornbread even though there's so much meat in them that it's ridiculous. I make my beans and greens with, oh, you know- vegetable broth and stuff like that. Which I love but shitfire, pinto beans with ham in them? Hell yes.
And they have a TERRIBLE record as to racism and shit. I did a post once a while ago about going to the Cracker Barrel and how horrible it was and how the family next to us (very white, very Southern) all bowed their heads in prayer before the meal except for the mother who simply sat there picking at her salad until the prayer was over.
Cracked me up.
Don't even get me started on their “country store.”
But I love your brother. LIke Angella said- he seems to be so accepting of that which is. Unlike certain Christians.
Keep bringing us these tales from the road. And that picture is priceless. More, please.
LikeLike
Dude, you made me pee I laughed so hard.
I love you!
LikeLike
Well, you guys gave all those customers An Experience. There was an article in today's NY Times
about the many panhandlers dressing as Buddhist monks — and the attendant FB page devoted to this — that I found sort of hilarious…
LikeLike
Angella, the Monk is Buddhist and yes, acceptance and hilarity are his speciality.
love,
yo
LikeLike
Ms Moon, I now share this love hate thing for Cracker Barrel with you. I could have stayed there for hours if I weren't so damn tired. I think I remember that post! about the praying family. Last night there was a guy there with a tattoo on his neck Philipians 2-18 or some such.
On a sweeter note, they were playing a Patsy Cline cd.
love,
yo
LikeLike
wonderful … I like your term, road drunk and I KNOW what you mean…
I tell ya.. I've been ranting about the 'christian' folk for a few posts now … got one more to go tonight…
That mindset is what is wrong with this country … and I'm tired of pussyfooting around with 'em.
Being a liberal and open minded … I usually just shake my head and go one … but these next elections are way too important.
The church goers need to keep their religion in their homes and in their church and outta the Constitution .. .the government and my uterus…
enough …
LOVED this post, Yolanda… what a wonderful picture you painted of you and the Monk .. HAHaaaa and good ol Cracker Barrell… lord lord lordy
LOVE Mexican food … and you're in a great area for such!
LikeLike
Scotty! I almost peed laughing too.
We were beyond punchy.
love you!
LikeLike
A! Funny you should mention that article. The Monk is behind that article. I told him now he's put our lives in danger having blown the whistle on these fake monks. They'll be out looking for him.
Ha!
xxoo
LikeLike
Oh, lord. I grew up going to Cracker Barrels and every now and then truly miss that food. This post was so very entertaining, and I do wish that I'd been there to see The Monk in his golden glory at the Cracker Barrel.
LikeLike
Carolyn, You Go Girl!
LikeLike
Elizabeth, It was a sight!
LikeLike
My neighbor calls it the Honkey Bucket.
LikeLike