Bowie Roadhouse
On a typical day, a Washington urbanite need never stop at the Texas Roadhouse in Bowie, Maryland. It is a chain restaurant with faux-casa decor and a parking lot ringed with pick-ups. However, a Washington jet setter who gets stuck in airport traffic, misses her flight, and furiously reroutes through Bowie on her way back to the city, will find the Roadhouse a welcome haven.
At the Roadhouse, there are people like Melissa who will pull a refrigerator out from the wall to plug-in your cell phone; and Meghan, who will give you detailed directions back home then write them on a receipt with a mechanical pencil. More than likely, an older couple at the corner of the bar will offer to watch your beer while you go to the bathroom.
If your decision-making abilities are at all stymied by starvation or frustration, fear not! The Roadhouse menu refuses to intimidate. As you know, “Roadhouse” is synonymous with “steak house” (You knew that, right?) and considering this shop’s proximity to the Chesapeake Bay, you will obviously stay on the turf side of surf. New York Strip: boring, Filet Mignon: yeah right. The only items left are the Ribeye and a flock of sides!
If you’re cutting back on fat-marbled-beef, order a dinner salad with nutrition-negating croutons and dressing, dry table bread, or a baked sweet potato that is actually a yam. After all, there is nothing a pound of butter can’t fix. Wash-down with a soothing Blue Moon draft, and prepare to share your yarn. At the Roadhouse, traffic stories are king.
“I was in the middle lane, then moved to the right, and just as I did that…”
“You should-of moved to the left lane right when you saw that black sign! I always do that and I never have a problem!”
And so on.
In an hour’s time, the food, beer, and camaraderie will ease your Air Tran angst, and Melissa and Meghan will send you on your way. You might even forget that you charged your cell behind a cooler so you could scream at an airline representative on the drive home! Rest assured that the inching inbound traffic will jog your memory.
Aren’t the suburbs great? Come to Virginia. We’re even nicer than the Marylanders. Fun essay. Short but sweet and full of good observations.
Cathy