The Harley dealership manager from Austin who has "250 choices of rides, (dramatic pause, sips from beer, turns back to me, eyebrows lifting) Everyday." is returning from Kansas City where he'd toured the Harley factory. I think he'd be good in his own local TV commercials.
The Army dude is divorced and "can't see the kids." He's coming home from Iraq where, "Unlike in LA," he notes, raising his glass to the brunette beside him, a car chase ends with a tank running over the car. He says, "Trying not to shoot people so much anymore. So now we just stop the car by running over it with the tank, drag the driver out and beat the shit out of him." He leaves his beer only half full because he "can't be stumbling to the gate," but he eats a hot dog in three bites. Three seconds flat. Seriously, it was impressive.
Beside him is he LA Chick. The LA chick's Dad produced Bob Hope's USO specials. Her Mom is Mexican, but she doesn't think that's very unusual. "So many people say 'wow', but I don't even notice the accent." She's headed to Baltimore to do stage management for the Miss USA pageant where she must insure that the girls are in the right place at the right time. Cause if they're not the names displayed on the screen won't match. "It's happened!" She declares. "It's a challenge to manager an event that's judged live."
She nods to the Army guy, "Yes, there was a shooting-out-the-window car chase in LA today." They nod at each other in mutual understanding and she touches his shoulder, "But not in my neighborhood. And no tanks. Tank drivers would definitely get sued."
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