Green Flying Tomatoes

Posted on Oct 03, 2009 - 6:00am by Marshall J. Gruskin in Trucking

The place? -the Travel Center of America – aka T/A. Where?- Whitsett, NC. The date? – yesterday. The time? - doesn’t matter. It all started very innocently enough. I wasn’t look’n for trouble. It had been a long day. And tomorrow I’ll have to wake up early to go pick up the longest trip I’ve had in six months – Denver CO. I haven’t been there in the longest time. I need those 1650 miles. My body is hurt’n and I’ve had enough of the back to back 550 mile tarped overnighters.

Have you had the ribs at the T/A lately? All ya can eat and their yummy good. I mean really good! The meat falls right off the bone. Comes with fresh corn on the cob, hot rolls, fries and… a salad. Yes, a medium sized bowl of mixed greens, onions if you ask for them, cucumbers, shredded cheese with gooey French dressing..and..tomatoes. Not the big suckers. No, these are the small cherry kinda tomatoes. These were a bit green. Little balls of delight packed in their own juices. Little did I know how dangerous they would be or what was about to happen.

Well, I hunkered down at the booth with my icy Spite and dug into that salad. You know how cheap the T/A silverware is – you can bend the spoon, knife – especially the fork – easily. I was once so angry at the lousy service, before I left the table I twisted all the silverware up like modern art work you’d find in front of a bank building – just smaller. Don’t worry, I’ve only done it once – or twice…or…ah heck I don’t remember now.

Unlike the dry tasteless salad leaves they serve at the Flying J, these were better. Crunchy. I love cucumbers. Hey I said to myself, I think I’ll grab a hold of one of those greenish cherry tomatoes. Slip – right over to the other side of the bowl. I chase it. No tomatoes gonna get the best of me darn toot in. I give chase. Pop. No luck. Slides over seeking refuge next to a lettuce leaf. I got ya now. I jab hard and YES success. Got ya! In my mouth ya go. Ooooo – that’s good.

More lettuce. Another cucumber. Some cheese. A bite of the hot buttery roll. Time to take a crack at that other tomato. Position the fork for the kill. Jab. Damn. Slid up top. Maybe I should bring in the knife for the assist. Cut the sucker in half. Maybe the spoon. Naw. It’s the fork or nothing. Ascertain the coordinates of the tomato. Slowly bring the hand in position. Down. Holy flying fruit. The thing is airborne. Everybody duck! INCOMING!

DING! The damn thing hits the driver in the booth in front of me right in the back of the neck. These are the actual photos. Head for the hills! This guy weighs easily 400 lbs. and towers at about 6′ 3″. I freeze. I’m still holding the gun – I mean fork – that propelled it right at his head. My life flashes before my eyes. Holy Mary. I’m stuck to the plastic seat – my butt won’t move. Where would I go anyway? Where’s the waitress – she’ll protect me.

But wait a minute. The driver’s I assaulted isn’t moving. Did I stun him so badly with the green cherry tomato or OH NO – did I, I – kill ‘em? Wait a minute. Wait a minute. He’s alive! He moves his head to the left. And to the right. And then back front. But he doesn’t say anything – he doesn’t do anything. This guy’s head must be so thick perhaps he didn’t feel it. No, I am sure the tomato hit him. I heard the pop or plop or whatever the sound a green cherry tomato makes when it hits a huge truck driver.

Where did the weapon of mass destruction go? Oh no – another driver walking by squashed it. Road kill! There it sits a mere vision of its former self – flat as a fuel card. Oh, the horror of it all. Huh? What’s that you say? No, the driver was not injured in any way, just went on eating as if nothing happened. And I devoured my ribs. True story!