One of the perks of workin' security for Gettysburg Bike Week is that I always meet interestin' folks.
Met me a grizzled, old bastard last night while doin' overnight watch at the campground. Introduced himself as Pappy.
Well, as most of ya know, anyone with the name Pappy usually has some pretty friggin' awesome stories. I told him as much, and he fired right back, "Well, I sure as hell earned it!"
Well, we sat around the campfire, shootin' the shit for a half-hour or so. Pappy is from New York, "about an hour north of the big hole in the ground." He's a former prison guard who somehow got tied up in (and hurt durin') the Twin Tower attacks.
As expected, he was full of infinite wisdom and plenty of tall tales. I had a few tidbits to throw in as well. For instance, after a discussion about big fake tits and what he referred to as "flappin' earmuffs", I was able to inform him (to his delight I might add) that it's commonly referred to as "motorboating" these days. I always like to try to keep the older generation up to date on our modern slang:)
My next two passes through his area, I'd stop and jaw with him for a few minutes more. Finally, around six-ish on my last pass around, he had retired to his camper.
I never get sick of jawin' with them old bastards. I think deep down inside, all of us want to be a Pappy someday. I know I do.