I am not alone
Not that there's anything wrong with getting around - been out of the yard a couple times myself this last week.
In fact, just last Saturday we were down at Lenny's Bar and Grill and Swap Meet for a burger and fries and a frosty bowl, on our way home from running some errands. Lenny was working the bar like he usually does weekend mid-days, and Wendy was working the grill.
Lenny sips a bit while he's working - mostly sweet tea, which goes through a body pretty fast, and he had made a quick trip to relieve the pressure (which only put more pressure on Wendy, but of course that's a whole 'nother issue).
So Wendy is working the grill for those of us with our orders in, and keeping half a side-eye on the front, when in comes an obvious tourist: t-shirt, over-stuffed fanny-pack, the whole nine yards.
She pauses inside the door to let her eyes adjust from the Texas sunshine, then stalks over to one of the three empty tables left in the room and sits down.
Wendy brings her a menu and asks what she'd like to drink - the usual routine- and the gal orders a cup of coffee.
Now, Lenny is not known for his coffee. Morning with eggs, noon with a burger, Lenny is not known for his coffee. He makes his tea every morning fresh, boils up the sugar for the simple syrup to make it sweet, but Lenny's coffee is more likely made last week than this. Wendy writes the request down on her little pad anyways, and says, "You're not from near here, are you? Where're you from?"
And darned if that little tourist didn't suck herself up all upright before she said, "I’m from New England where we don’t end sentences with prepositions."
It takes more than that to throw Wendy off her stride. Quicker-than-you-can-blink she says, "So where're you from, Miss Holier-than-thou*?"
*I have heard of similar events occurring in other places. Not all of the waitresses in those tales have maintained their composure as thoroughly as Wendy did, and I have recommended to Lenny that he give her a raise.