The other night, Jan and I were going to a visitation. The daughter of a friend of hers had died young and Jan wanted to pay her respects. With this solemn goal in mind, we took off in Friday rush-hour traffic to the funeral home. We got there in time to get some dinner before the service, so we looked around for a restaurant and finally saw something called the Tilted Kilt. Given that Jan likes pubs and all things Celtic, it sounded like a reasonable choice.

However, the Tilted Kilt is essentially Hooters in tartan. The young and shapely waitresses wear a bikini top and miniskirt made of plaid material. The miniskirt is more of a broad belt. I guess the food was OK, the french fries were good, but my attention was elsewhere.

Jan had a great time pointing out waitresses on the move and watching me try to appear to NOT be staring. She'd deliberately choose waitresses behind me so she could see me try not to swivel my head 180 degrees. I kept my head down when we were being served because otherwise, my eyes were at the level of, well, you know.

On the other hand, it cheered me up greatly from what had looked like it was going to be an unpleasant Friday. Jan and I got into a discussion of why there weren't similar places for gals but we had no easy answers.

Don