It was the dead of winter in Broken Arrow, Oklahoma. In the gathering darkness, Julie and I got off the snow-plowed highway and walked carefully across the icy restaurant parking lot toward our dinner break.
“How are you tonight?”
“We’re great. How are you?”
That’s when our waiter, in the midst of the clatter and chatter of the dining room, went off-script. He smiled wryly and said, “Living the dream.”
