Angus Al’s 4944

We all slept late, and when we got up, we felt refreshed and ready to do something. Madeline, the neighbor, said that there are eggs, bacon, and bread in the house, which got us through breakfast. We then got bundled up and walked outside. The frigid temperature momentarily jarred us, but then a euphoric feeling collectively swept through us, and we took a stroll around the farm. Not wanting to overdo it, we went back inside the house where I started a fire. Elizabeth and Amy laid on the floor coloring in front of the fire while Blake and I chilled on the couch.

Already I feel like a new man.

We bundled up again and went out for dinner. We drove into Blair, where we found a place called Angus Al that claimed to have the best burgers in the world. I pulled into the parking lot, and we decided to see if their claim was true. An old-fashioned joint straight out of the fifties, Angus Al, has no pretense whatsoever, and I asked the waitress that I’ve eaten some mighty fine burgers in my time. “You haven’t eaten at Al’s, so you’re about to eat the best,” she replied. “Okay, you’re on.” We all ordered burgers, and to the girl’s delight, the joint had chocolate milkshakes. I ordered a vanilla one, and I must say the shakes are definitely a cut-above.

Then the burgers arrived.

Juicy, cooked to perfection and loaded with taste, Angus Al’s burgers are definitely one of the best burgers I ever ate and Blake and the girls agreed. The homestyle fries also hit the spot. When we finished our meal, I told the waitress that the burgers are something to behold. “I told you,” she confidently replied.

Then, a middle-aged man walked out wearing an apron.

“How was it,” he asked. “Delicious, Sir, are you the cook?” “No, I’m Al Ledge, I own this place.” “Sorry, you look so natural as a cook.” “I do that, too, my father owned this place and left it to me. My son and daughter decided that this business wasn’t for them, which was a smart move. This business had been good to me, but it’s a tough go.” “Yes, it is, but it’s a challenge that is rewarding when you make it work,” I replied. “I hear you have a successful restaurant,” l then asked.

Oh shit, I’ve been ID’d.

“How do you know I have a restaurant?” “Because you’re the Scragg Man,” Al replied. “Why do you say that?” “You look like him, and the Braves knit hat.” “Oh boy.” “Plus, you’re staying at Dick Felty’s place, or it was his place before his son moved there and then moved out. I know Dick is in North Carolina, so it wasn’t hard to figure out who you are.” “Look, we’re here to get away and relax.” “I understand, but can we at least get a photo of you that I can put on the wall,” Al asked. “Sure.”

Damn, I should have worn a Cornhuskers hat.

I posed for pics with Al and his staff. Realizing there was no use in hiding, I then chatted with the customers, and they took pics. “You need a Nebraska coat and cap,” an old codger told me. “I’m married to a Wildcat,” I replied. “Why you letting him wear a Braves cap, this is Royal Country,” another older man asked Blake. “I’m working on it,” she replied. “Don’t let those pretty little girls follow those miserable Braves,” Al said. “Hey, they’re coming up in the world,” I protested. The joint erupted in laughter, and I felt right at home.

Okay, so we didn’t make a clean getaway as we thought, but we still had a grand time chatting with the locals and getting in touch with folks just like us before the money rolled in.

Blake and I said that we would come back to Angus Al’s tomorrow.