Gene's Barbecue: Biker's Welcome

A little memory from a trip I took with my parents when my youngest was a baby...

We stopped in Brinkley, Arkansas for lunch. We were sick of fast food, so we found a place called Gene's Barbecue. It looked busy, which was a good sign. The parking lot was full of pickups. My tiny Kia Soectra looked a little out of place.

We walked into the dining room, which was about the size of my kitchen at home. One huge banquet table was filled entirely with men & boys in camouflage. The rest of the diners look pretty normal. As soon as we stepped inside the room went silent. We waited by the door for someone to greet us, seat us, or tell us to go away. None of these things happened, so we just sat down. And waited. And we kept on waiting. The conversations around us were whispered and the other guests kept peeking over at us. I was waiting for the moment when someone would saunter up to our table and say, "We don't too much like strangers 'round these parts." I tried to keep my 4 year old entertained & quiet with the tools at my disposal-- packets of artificial sweetener, ketchup, tabasco, and steak sauce. The baby started fussing and then we got more stares, so I took him out of his seat and held him.

Someone eventually brought us a menu and said they'd be around to take our order soon. We felt encouraged; we had menus! They must be willing to give us food, too. The food sure sounded good. Barbecued pork, fried chicken. Great southern fare.My 4 year old was looking forward to some pancakes and sausage. We waited-- our mouths watering-- for the waitress. She came out of the kitchen and took the order of the diners who came in after us. They were closer to the kitchen. That's probably why she took their order first. Right? And then she commenced to take the orders of everyone who came in after us, walking right past our table in order to do so. We kept saying,"If she doesn't take our order after those guys, let's leave." Finally we just got up and left. And I swear I heard a huge sigh of relief.

As we drove off, my mom pointed to the sign outside. It said "Bikers welcome."