A3Writer: F3 Date with a Storm Rider
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Friday, June 17, 2016

F3 Date with a Storm Rider

            I was apprehensive as Kate and I sat down. I had never been to Ben BBQ Boulevard, probably because it was in Wyoming. Of course, that was only a few terrifying, life-screaming minutes away as Kate hauled me behind her as she lassoed a lightning bolt.
            “You’re going to love this place, Matt.”
            “Assuming I get my appetite back,” I said, trying to get my hands to stop shaking. It had been half an hour, but I would never get used to that kind of travel.
            “Don’t be such a baby,” she said, tearing into a hunk of bread slathered with honey butter.
            The waitress came, depositing quart-sized mason jars filled with our drinks, beer for her, water for me.
            “Is it a good idea to drink and zip around like that?”
            “It’d take three bottles of whiskey to get me buzzed. Downside of being me. Metabolism is a beast.”
            “Well, that’s either really helpful or really annoying.”
            “Pain in the ass. All the shit we see, we want to get hammered and forget.”
            I chuckled. “Yeah. I hear you.”
            “So, go ahead, go up to the bar and get some of the hard stuff.”
            I shook my head. “Not when we have to fly back.”
            “Wuss.”
            “That’s what my brother used to say about me.”
            “You got a brother?”
            I was about to answer when our server came up, and Kate immediately jumped in to order. “Yeah, I’ll have the family meal with brisket, ribs, and sausage. Lots of sausage. Potato salad, cornbread, and cole slaw.”
            “Great,” Amber said. “We’ll get that right out to you.”
            “Hold up,” Kate said. “You need to take his order,” she pointed at me.
            “Um, well, I thought—So, sir, what will you have?”
            “The, uh, chicken platter with baked potato and cornbread, please.”
            “Coming up.”
            “That’s it? Oh, right, forgot. You’re not a Storm Rider. We really have to pack away the carbs and protein, but I guarantee you’ll want to before our workout.”
            “I guess you burn through the energy working the weather. Surprised it doesn’t—wait, our workout?”
            She gave me a wicked grin as she bit off another hunk of bread.



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