Terry Hopkins was in town to see his Dad, so we decided to meet for lunch. He was kind enough to take me out to LaGrand’s Transmissions to pick up my van, which was in for routine service. He said Brad Brune was going to meet us noonish at Broussard’s on Broadway.
We arrived a couple of minutes after noon, but no Brad. We waited about 10 minutes, then took up the server’s invitation to grab a table, get something to drink and peruse the menu. We told her to be on the lookout for an older gentleman. “He’ll probably be in a walker, with an oxygen tank and a nurse helping him along.”
After waiting about 20 minutes, we apologized to the server and assured her that he’d be along any minute. “We’ll give him another five minutes.”
Brad had problems with AM and PM
Terry finally decided to call Brad to make sure he hadn’t forgotten us. His cockamamie excuse was that he had, indeed, set an alarm to remind him of our appointment, but that he had gotten AM and PM mixed up. He assured us that he would be reminded at midnight of our planned visit.
When the server came back, we explained that Brad was held up by a flat tire on his walker. “He’s able to top it off from his oxygen tank, but it’s a slow leak. He can’t shuffle too fast, so he only gets about 25 feet before he has to blow it up again.”
The server wondered why Brad’s nurse couldn’t help him. We explained that Brad has always been fiercely independent. We went ahead and ordered for him: the daily special of gumbo. “You may have to run it through a blender,” we warned her. “He has to take his food through a straw, and you wouldn’t want to be the one who has to clean out the clogs.”
Miracles of medical science
When Brad, operating on Brune Standard Time, finally showed up 45 minutes late, the server seemed genuinely disappointed to see that he arrived under his own power. We attributed it to a strong will and the miracles of medical science.
I sat back and listened to the two of them swap tales of athletic daring and female conquests. Or, maybe I have that backwards. I don’t think it’s worth looking up the score in either case. I had no stories to tell in either category, so mostly I listened in awe tinged with disbelief.
We strolled down to the river where Brad offered us chocolate-flavored cigars. I passed, but Terry enjoyed his with relish. I mean, he lit it up and savored it, I don’t mean that he slathered it with a pickle condiment.
Bobby Jones and Theresa L Wood dance
We watched, curious, at an intricate dance where the lightly-loaded northbound Bobby Jones passed the heavier and longer Theresa L. Wood, which had been idling against the current close to the riverfront. We kept waiting for the Wood to crank up the steam and follow, but the Bobby Jones slowed off Cape Rock and appeared to be drifting back downstream.
It all becomes clear
I went to the car to get my portable scanner to see if we could hear what was going on. By the time I got back, it all became clear: the two northbounders were holding fast to give the southbound Preston N. Shuford plenty of room to pass.
Had to take oblgatory floodwall photo
We finished our visit with the obligatory photo against the floodwall mural.
After abandoning Brad, Terry and I headed off on a super secret mission that you might read about tomorrow. I’ll try to use the Steinhoff Standard Time calendar and not the Brune Standard Time version. He may have B.C. and A.D. confused on it.
You can click on the photos to make them larger.
12 Replies to “Brune Standard Time”
Brother-in-law, Russ Doughty and I were discussing your photo journalism skills recently. We enjoy both your photography and humorous journalism. I read your blog with my morning coffee. This morning you took a late luncheon date and turned it funny story. Also I appreciate the comments left by others. Although I haven’t seen many of my old schoolmates and others from Cape since high school, some 50 years ago (can it be that long ago), I feel a little more connected to the group after reading their thoughts. Thanks for doing the blog.
Ditto Bill’s comment
Still handsome after all these years.
Terry shared a Darla story over lunch. There aren’t that many Darlas in the world, so it might have involved you.
Don’t worry, though, I had my Terry filter on and didn’t believe a word of it.
I always did like Darla even if her eye sight is failing.
Brad and I had a great time, as for Ken you can read his story above. Nothing better that having lunch with old friends, getting a FREE cigar after lunch and watching the river. This is the trifecta of good things.
Nice looking dog, what was he doing with you two? 🙂
Brad was taking Olivia for lunch. Terry relished her. The pickle kind.
The dog “Olivia” was slumming for sure Jesse. But when you are on a 16′ leash it’s hard to act like you’re not with the old fat guys with the amazingly slim 180′ test legs.
As for as the cruel, insulting, stories Steinhoff told on us ……. Terry and I are going on the record as saying, “we are still a couple of sensitive metro-sexual guys just as we were in high school… our feelings are hurt, and we resemble Ken’s remarks!!! I meant RESENT!!
As far as me setting my “Smart Phone” reminder to 12AM instead of PM ……. I invite anyone out there who actually understands these dammed contraptions…. to cast the first stone. That includes you Mr. “…text??? just call me!” Steinhoff!
I avoid the whole midnight / noon conundrum by setting my alarms for 11:59 or 12:01.
As for the lack of my texting ability (and my disdain of texting), you texted me your phone number. I expected it to connect me to Dial A Prayer or the Suicide Hotline, but it contained NO number.
I get the message.
The text IS THE PHONE NIMBER 19th century Ken!!!!! You just save it to your contact list and put my name on it. But if I have to write it out for you: 579-9495.
Brune and Hopkins…. Now that is a pair of grown ups for you.. Maybe it should be “grown-outs”. Love your site Ken..
Great pictures as usual but absolutely loved the tales of the three grown ups!!