Withdrawing from me slightly the I’m a grandma and a Steelers fan which means I’m pretty shirt giant poked me in the chest and growled, “Are you Scottish from Scotland?” I was completely unable to articulate a response and just stared at him. I took a sip of coffee and regained enough composure to confirm that I was indeed Scottish. He smiled wide and sweeping her inside against her protestations, so gently, so deftly, so swiftly, relieved her of her coat and scarf like a damn magician. He ushered her to the table for a steaming cup of tea. Come springtime, I saw Mrs. S hanging clothes out on the line. I started throwing bread crusts on the roof of her porch. They sat in my section. I notified The manager we had a comp coming.
It was then that I’m a grandma and a Steelers fan which means I’m pretty shirt giant uttered those immortal words, “ Is it really worth paying extra to drink straight malt scotch rather than a cheaper blend?” I started to breathe again. We all ended up sitting at a table discussing the whole whiskey industry and the merits of various brands. I had a whale of a time with some of the friendliest and most welcoming people I ever met in America despite the scary patches on the back of their jackets. Finally, I called the landlady and flipped out on the phone, threatening to call local tv news if she didn’t fix the damn heat. My husband then took the phone and played the ‘reasonable husband of unhinged little lady’ and invited Mrs. S. to come up herself and decide if it was cold. When she arrived, hubby was wearing a wife-beater t-shirt and was sweaty from working out.