Soda Crackers

It was the perfect day. Work was ticking along like clockwork. The sun was shining. And we were on a road trip. Wade and I were heading to Wahpeton to tackle a big story. But really, there are priorities. It’s a favorite game of reporters and photographers on an out of town shoot. Gear? Check. Tapes? Check. Notebooks? Check.

We climbed in to the vehicle and adjusted our sunglasses. Then, as we pulled out of the station parking lot, the game began.

“Where do you want to eat?”

This particular day I was quite tickled to be working in Wahpeton. Wahpeton you see, is right across the river from Breckenridge, Minn. Breckenridge is the home of The Wilkin restaurant. The twelve-foot ceilings are covered in tin. There are still decorative remnants of the buildings original bank.

Without hesitation, Wade and I decided on The Wilkin for lunch. ??We had the soup and sandwich lunch special, which was fabulous. We each had a small bowl of soup.

I ripped open my package of soda crackers (you might call them saltine crackers). I could feel Wade staring at me.

“What?”

“Uh, do you know how many calories are in soda crackers?”

Wade proceeded to tell me how everyone thinks soda crackers are so healthy and so they eat them and apparently get fat. (A co-worker was on a diet, so he was filling Wade’s head with this healthy nonsense.) So, Wade’s single package of soda crackers sat alone on the table and he was safe from the calories.

The special at The Wilkin stretched even my taste buds. Imagine, if you will, a turkey sandwich, with coleslaw piled on top with mandarin oranges, raspberry mayonnaise on the side. The waitress dropped off extra napkins.

“You’ll need these,” she smirked.

And we did. But it didn’t stop us both from diving in with both hands. We talked about the sandwich for weeks. After the soup and sandwich experience we realized we still had a bit of time before our next interview. The waitress returned.

“Dessert for anyone today?”

Now, realize at this point we are both happily miserable. But my alter ego took over as I felt it was my responsibility to teach Wade a very valuable lesson.

“We’ll take the hot fudge brownie with two spoons, please.”

Wade swore he would only have a bite.

And then, there it was. The biggest brownie I had ever seen, smothered in hot fudge with ice cream oozing down the sides of it and a cherry on top. I pick up my spoon and attacked. Wade was more hesitant, but he threw caution to the wind after the first bite and dug in. He enjoyed referring to the hot fudge and sludge. Ten minutes later we were more miserable that either one of us imagined was a possibility. We leaned back. We tried to adjust in the wooden benches. It seemed there was no denying it – we had simply eaten too much.

It was a good thing he didn’t eat his soda crackers.