By the luck of the draw Bart was first cousin to Auntie Mabel who operated the Keister Inn. Early on Mabel had hoped that Cousin Bart could manage the dining room of the Inn. Unfortunately, he couldn’t.
Bart had this weird idea that if your restaurant was full, and you had twenty-five people waiting for tables you should always seat a local dignitary immediately, even if the dignitary did not have a reservation. He considered Mayor Grafft, Torx Torvald, and almost all of the city council to be worthy of this treatment. The customers began to get fed up and they started to go over to Fred’s Motel and Hungarian Restaurant, which made Fred very happy. Auntie Mabel, on the other hand, was somewhat less than amused.
The grand climax to Bart’s restaurant career came on a Thursday night. The ten foot salad bar over at Fred’s Motel and Hungarian Restaurant was turning out to be a really hot number. Not to be out done, Mabel set up a salad bar, too. The salad bar was off to one side of the dining room and, like the rest of the eatery, was serviced by a ramp, leading down from the kitchen.
On the Thursday night in question Bart had managed to accidentally create a backup at the hostess’s desk by seating a group of dentists and their wives, visiting from Millers Falls, ahead of everyone else. It was tournament time and the local Keisters Ridge Consolidated Unit 12 Community High School basketball team had just won their round in the state sectionals. This was call for everyone in the community to pin on red and gold ribbons, the school colors, and go out for a time on the town. Lots of them went to the Keister Inn.
Bart wandered up to the hostess’s desk just in time to see fifteen people decked out in red and gold ribbons loudly squeeze in the door.
They combined with the other customers to create a traffic jam. The mood of the earlier group had begun to sour when the dentists were led past them. With the arrival of the noisy newcomers they turned downright hostile.
Faced with a group of people rapidly turning into a mob, Bart as usual, panicked. Suddenly, the waitresses weren’t fast enough, the cashier couldn’t count quickly enough, and the salad bar wasn’t full enough. Bart decided that he could help things along.
The staff of the Keister Inn thought that he could indeed help speed things up by stepping into the bar and having a couple of gin flips while they took care of the situation. Much to their regret, Bart instead tried to service the salad bar.
He dashed up the ramp and barged into the kitchen. Moments later the swinging door flew back open as Bart came out and charged down the ramp. Apparently the air was unusually thick that night because Bart seemed to trip on something hard but invisible. The very large bowl of chopped lettuce and shredded red cabbage left his hands and sailed through the air.
The laws of physics, being what they are, totally control the actions of rotating bodies. Centrifugal force caused Bart’s arms and legs to fly out from his body as he rolled down the ramp. Centrifugal force also caused a shoe to fly off. Gravity caused the shoe to come down to earth, as it were, several feet away. Down to “earth” is not really accurate. Down to “bosom” is much closer to the truth. The J. C. Penney $29.95 special smacked the wife of Mayor Grafft right square in the Tiffany pin, a gift from her brother, which was firmly mounted on the left side of her chest, two inches up from the location of her heart. She took to wearing turtlenecks for several weeks until the considerable bruise went away. Mrs. Grafft was saved from more serous damage because she had just looked up from her French onion soup to follow the flight of the salad bowl. Had she not been looking up the shoe would have tagged her in the eye and necessitated her wearing an eye patch.
In the meantime, as the bowl’s trajectory carried it over the Grafft table its spin caused it to lose the lettuce and cabbage. The lettuce and cabbage, in turn, flew all over the dining room until gravity caused it, too, to rain down. The atmosphere changed, as did the conversation. The mood became unfriendly.
Two days later Bart made a down payment on a gas station near the WBFQ Country Music Studios. He was the new owner of Bart’s Richfield Service, “Where You Can Expect Service With A Smile.” Auntie Mabel had urged him out of the restaurant business with the aide of a meat clever. Nevertheless, Bart couldn’t help popping into the Keister Inn from time to time to offer a bit of his expertise.
When July finally rolled around Bart had decided that he deserved a little time off. So, he packed his bags and hung a sign on the pumps indicating that he’d be back in about ten days. Off he went to visit his sister. Lucy lived in the Big City. Bart had never gone there visit her before. He expected the Big City to be a place of surprises, which it did turn out to be.
On the third day of his visit Bart decided to go out on his own and see what he could see. After a couple of hours he had gotten himself thoroughly lost and was beginning to feel the first pangs of thirst.
The Big City was no place for a country boy like Bart. But, Bart did not know that. In Keisters Ridge the bus station is right there on Main Street. When Bart found himself standing under a neon sign looking at a poster telling of the adventures of Trailways Bus Travel he thought that he was finally getting to know the Big City.
Across the street was the Axton Hotel. It looked pretty lively so Bart went on over. Inside he found a place that was beyond his wildest dreams. The hotel had six bars and three restaurants. One was called the Gay ’90s Palace and was done up in red velvet flocked wall paper with green foil trim. Another was a bar decked out like a Wild West saloon. But, Bart decided to go into the imitation Parisian sidewalk cafe.
As he sat there sipping a lemonade he began to notice the customers. And they began to notice him. Apparently his dress didn’t fit in. He seemed to stand out. At first Bart couldn’t figure out why. He was wearing his Harrah’s slacks, his white Arrow shirt, and his famous $29.95 J. C. Penney’s shoes. Could it be that he wasn’t wearing Levis like almost everyone else? He decided, it was something other than that.
Then he saw it. Hats! Almost every man in the room had a hat, and he did not. For instance, the tall blonde fellow with the pink silk shirt and black satin pants had a hat. So did the fellow with no socks and an ankle bracelet. Even the short bald man in the patent leather shoes had a hat. So that was it! To be “in” in the Big City you had to have a hat!
Of all the hats in the place, Bart’s favorite was worn by a woman. She was very good looking. The hat was the type worn by cowboys, except that it had blinking LEDs across the front. What Bart didn’t know was that the woman’s name was Bernard.
The effects of the lemonade were making themselves known, so Bart got up and started exploring around in search of a men’s room. After some hunting he found it. By luck this particular men’s room was also the pride and joy of the Axton Hotel. When Bart walked through the set of brass plated doors he was stunned by what he saw. It was as if he had died and gone to interior decorator’s heaven. Some people would have said it was the other place.
The stalls all made of pink marble. The fixtures were polished chrome, and mirrors lined the walls on which the sinks were mounted. The Grecian mosaic floor was a sight to behold. But what really caught Bart’s eye was in an ante room.
In that other, smaller, room was a rock garden. It went from the floor to the ceiling and was decorated with waterfalls, colored lights, and imitation Roman Statues. Ferns grew from between the rocks. Two or three men stood there, doing what needed to be done.
Bart was astounded. He simply stared. It was the gall‑darndest thing he had ever seen. He came around when the last of the gentlemen turned to leave. Then Bart himself stepped up to the rock garden. As yet he had not seen the best part of all. When Bart moved to the edge of the gravel he broke a beam of light running to an electric eye. This caused a timer to start. After fifteen seconds the show piece was activated.
As Bart stood there, a motion caught his eye. He watched in amazement as a small statue came to life. A figure, about twelve inches high, of Fidel Castro turned towards him. The figure’s mouth dropped open and the eyes lit up red. The meaning of all this was not lost on Bart. The image of Fidel Castro burned into his brain.
He had finally found it! A restroom that made a political statement!
When Bart got back to Keisters Ridge he carried with him the memory of the Axton Hotel and its wonderful lavatory. Wherever he looked, little Castros popped into his head. Of course he told some of the locals about it, but they thought the Big City had gotten to him and that he had dreamed it all. The only person who believed Bart was Big John Johnson, the Country King, at WBFQ Beautiful Country Music. The Big City was Big John’s hometown, and he had actually been to the Axton Hotel. He had seen the fabulous rock garden. But, Big John had learned early on that some things are best not talked about in Keisters Ridge.
Still, the image stayed with Bart.
Auntie Mabel had decided that the Keister Inn could do with a little remodeling. She thought that some nice vinyl covered paneling with a pine‑like grain would look good in the bar. The men’s restroom also needed fixing after one of the stalls exploded. She was told that it had something to do with excess methane backed up from the new waste treatment plant.
Anyway, the time had come to do some work. But, remodeling costs bucks and Mabel was prudent. When Bart offered to help out she decided to let him have a go at it. After all, remodeling was a lot different than managing.
In fact, the whole job went incredibly well. Bart and his friend, Laszlo the Hippie, had the paneling up in record time. Auntie Mabel didn’t even have to close down the bar. The two new electric soup tureens for the salad bar went in without a hitch. The only problem was that Bart had said the water would have to be turned completely off while the restroom was re‑done.
That Mabel did not like one little bit. But Bart explained that it was a necessary evil. Besides, he said, she was working too hard. For once Mabel agreed with him. So she too packed her bags and went off to visit Bart’s sister in the Big City.
This meant that Bart had to work fast. He’d been planning this for weeks, but, he figured that with the help of Laszlo the Hippie he could be done in four days. It would be a tight race, yet he was willing to risk it. If his scheme paid off he thought the could double the business of the Keister Inn and make it famous in a three county area. Besides, it would prove to Mabel that he wasn’t as inept as she thought.
Four nights and four days Bart and Laszlo slaved away. They didn’t have time to truly rest, so they took catnaps while waiting for glue or plaster to set up. By Sunday they were finished. Mabel came home by the 7:15 pm bus and when Bart greeted her, she said that the trip had done her plenty of good.
The plan was to reopen for the Monday lunch trade. With the rush of preparations and the excitement Mabel had not bothered to look at the men’s restroom, relying on Bart’s word that it was “A‑OK.”
The lunch crowd was in a good humor. The gang from WBFQ Beautiful Country Music was all there. The secretaries from the bank were out for their weekly lunch, and even Fred from Fred’s Motel and Hungarian Restaurant had dropped by for some chicken drumettes.
The ruckus started when Big John Johnson, the Country King, went into the men’s room. People at a nearby table heard a muffled “Good God!” from within.
Big John came out and returned to his table. He seemed slightly dazed. In a minute the news director from WBFQ got up from the table and went into the restroom. There was a very loud gasp. Then he came out looking a little like he had walked into a bear trap by mistake.
Soon everybody was going into the men’s room. And not just men, either. Even the secretaries from the bank were lined up to go in. Auntie Mabel knew some thing was up‑ all the waitresses had disappeared. She went looking for the source of the problem.
What she found was sixty‑five people trying to peer into the men’s lavatory. In fact, nearly everyone crowded around the doors. The others were either at their tables or staggering around the dining room laughing, crying, or saying things like, “Oh, my, oh, my,” or “Well, I’ll be hog tied and feather dusted.”
Mabel pushed her way to the front of the line and squeezed through the door. Seconds later a hush came over the crowd and all eyes turned to the restroom. From within there came a long drawn out scream. Then the doors burst open and Auntie Mabel stepped out. The crowd parted.
Auntie Mabel usually looked a bit like a 1932 Packard, at least from the front. This time she more closely resembled a cross between a Sherman tank and a rabid rattlesnake. She smashed her way into the kitchen and exploded back out through the doors. She flew down the ramp past the salad bar and the two new electric soup tureens. With her pastry rolling pin in her left hand (it was made from the finest Italian marble) and her twelve inch chef’s knife in the other she made her way to the street smashing into tables and innocent bystanders alike.
Once on the sidewalk she drew a bead on her cousin Bart’s Richfield Service Station, Where You Can Expect Service With A Smile, lowered her head, and charged. Pedestrians thought the world was coming to an end as she advanced. Folks could feel the ground shake, and some thought it was a cattle stampede.
When Auntie Mabel got to Bart’s Richfield Service Station she found it empty. It was just as well, it made it much easier for her to do the remodeling job she had in mind. Also, it was much healthier for Bart, who had seen her coming and decided to leave town on a fishing trip.
The remodeled men’s restroom at the Keister Inn did attract a lot of business, but not the one hundred percent increase that Bart had hoped for. People were fascinated by the pink and blue floodlights and the dark blue foil wallpaper with the pastel salmon stripes. The Neo‑Classical statues were interesting, especially the one of Pan with nymphs that squirted water and was meant to be a sink. Even the rock garden, a real Axton Hotel touch, was complimented. Mabel grew to like the goldfish, once she got used to the fact that they swam around inside a transparent mermaid. In fact, Auntie Mabel decided to keep the whole thing. It did attract business, and besides it would have cost a fortune to rip out.
However, she decided that the three‑foot high talking statue of Sadam Husain definitely had to go.