Over the weekend, I took the kids to visit my Mom in Connecticut and got stuck in some major traffic on the Pike. Non-moving, emergency-helicopter-related traffic with a very sad cautionary tale associated with it. However, at the time, we didn’t know what was happening as we sat there. All I knew is that we had the good luck to be parked right next to a Ben & Jerry’s ice cream truck. And I called dibs first.
I spent a good fifteen minutes quietly daydreaming, my potential road rage dissolving like so much sugar in cream. I had visions of doing Chinese fire drills around the truck, picking out a new flavor of ice cream with each rotation. I know how to make the best of a bad situation.
But the silence was shattered when my littlest one spotted the tiny ice cream cone graphic on the Dari Farms cab. So even though it was only 9:30 in the morning, I knew I had to get my hands on some ice cream, stat.
I tried to get the attention of the truck driver, but he refused to make eye contact. He knew he was trapped. That any minute, hundreds of angry motorists would descend upon him with tire irons and a hunger that only multiple pints of Chubby Hubby could satisfy. And he wasn’t going down without a fight.
I needed a strategy. I considered hiking up my unstylish capris, and trying to fluff up my bone-straight hair. But, let’s face it, I’ve let myself go. Even with a captive audience, the odds of success weren’t great. So, instead, I drew up a sign with big letters that read:
GOT ICE CREAM???
Summoning the Italian side of my heritage, I gesticulated wildly until he couldn’t help but look over. Then, I slapped that sign up against the passenger side window.
The driver threw his hands up in the air, apologetically. After a few moments, he jumped out to tell me that he had made his last delivery and his truck was empty. I had my doubts as to his truthfulness. I asked if he would mind if I had a little look-see in the back of his truck (wink-wink). He stammered something about having to talk to another truck driver up ahead, and ran off through the parking lot that was the highway.
Some endless amount of time later, with the kids assuming I was taking my usual stance toward the ice cream man and making me pay for it, the traffic started to move. Off in the woods, I swear I saw two guys scarfing down the rest of their pints, running back to their trucks.
You’re on my list, Ben & Jerry’s truck driver guy. Just know you’re on my list.
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