Hotel breakfasts are usually mediocre. Food provided at hotels does not stand out as a pleasant option, and missing the morning meal is never a huge disappointment. The bacon is stale, the eggs rehydrated, the coffee weak. At least it's free.
Before Selah was born, our family took a trip across America. The journey was several months, and it ate up most of the summer of 2015. I was eight at the time.
In one nameless hotel along the way, I selected a hard-boiled egg as part of my breakfast. A sign on the microwave told me to cut my egg in half. Taking a plastic knife, I sliced the egg short ways, rather than longways.
Now the egg was in the microwave. It had been a little while. Suddenly, I heard a low pop, coming from the microwave. Opening the door, I found only one half of the egg. The other half was in shreds, covering the inside of the once clean kitchen appliance. Dad was near, and other people had noticed the combustion. I withdrew the plate with the unaffected piece. Dad and I stared at it a moment, when it exploded in our faces.
While we helped clean up the mess, I heard amused mutters from the dining area. An embarrassed blush crept into my cheeks. To the side, a worn businessman commented how the incident had "made his day." It sure didn't make mine.
***
One Christmas Eve, our church held the annual Christmas service. This service usually had multiple small sermons and a festive skit. But this year was different. This year, I was the main character in the skit. Thankfully, my grandfather was my co-actor, and this put me at ease. I played a little boy, and my grandpa played the grandpa. I rehearsed my few lines many times, and felt ready to perform by Christmas Eve.
After a smooth final rehearsal, the batteries in my wearable mike were changed again. The batteries I had just used were already fresh, but it was important that the microphone had enough power.
It was time for the skit. Going on stage under the cover of darkness, I prepared myself. I was ready. When the lights came on, I spoke the first line. But something didn't sound right. It didn't sound… loud. The sentence was at a regular conversation volume. I nervously cleared my throat, and repeated my phrase, with the same result. Now I was worried. I shrugged, and then swept my hand in the air at the guy in the sound booth, motioning frantically. The hundreds of people in the room laughed. I felt a hand go into my back pocket as the worship leader tried to find my mike's battery pack. Flaming red complexion, I pulled it out of my front pocket and handed it over, the audience still chuckling.
Finally, I ended up with a handheld microphone. Still quite embarrassed, I repeated my line at the appropriate volume.
"Whatcha doing, Grandpa?"
"I'm waiting for the sound to come on," he said.
That really made them laugh.
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Enjoyed those stories a lot.
Honestly, I think egg in the microwave is an iffy proposition no matter how you slice it.
Well written!