Installment No. 2 finds me at a Frickers in Huber Heights. Ask no questions, just know that sooner or later you're gonna end up in Huber Heights for something. So the gal and I are sitting in Frickers enjoying your standard draft beer fare before heading on to what I deemed the Preemptive Thanksgiving feast.
The details behind said title are long and sordid and I don't even know/remember them all. Suffice to say there are certain family members that don't want to be in the same room with each other. When that happens, 95 percent of the family has to plan a separate gathering unbeknownst to the castoffs to make someone else "feel better". Then you have the "real" gathering for everyone minus the other five percent. Makes sense to few, but the tension alleviated by such an exhaustive use of energy is apparently worth it. But I'm getting away from the point of this installment.
Huber Heights.
Frickers.
We're there.
Seated at the bar was a woman looking in her mid 20s. Nothing unusual there, however, seated next to her is an infant. Yep, a baby right there at the bar. Now I'm not exactly sure what the rule of thumb is and maybe I'm kowtowing to what the established consensus norms are, but there was just something about that that struck me as wrong; an infant bellied up to the bar.
It wasn't like the mother was ordering shots or beer for the kid or anything (at least none that I could see), but I felt like I was watching the beginning of a shitty Lifetime movie in progress. That'd be the story of a mother with mega poor parenting skills who raises a lil' ward-of-the-state-to-be that eventually shoots three people in a convenience store robbery gone very bad. Granted, I was projecting just a wee bit, but I just couldn't help it. The bartender, various waitresses and mom kept passing him back and forth across the bar counter.
Eventually, mom nestled the infant back into the high chair. That is when I noticed something that erased doubt from my mind pertaining to my inner debate regarding a perceived bad idea and a bona fide lousy idea.
It wasn't just a high chair, it was two…stacked on top of each other.
I immediately attempted to wrap my mind around the concept. I mean, surely she must have wanted the baby to sit higher up, but why? So the kid could see over the bar or to catch the football games on the televisions?! Was it so he/she could reach their beverage? No. They were much too young to sit up and hold a glass or even eat off a plate. So why concoct such a dangerous contraption? There were plenty of regular tables available and no valid excuses.
As the mother left with her child, I couldn't help but shake my head and stare. I'm guessing she strapped him to the back of her motorcycle with bungee cord and a soggy beer-soaked woolen cap for the ride home...or to the next bar.