Criminals

May 20, 2007

----Holt Women Day was truly an "adventure" yesterday. I vowed I would not be the driver this time, since we were going to head toward some Atlanta traffic on our way to a winery, Wolf Mountain, near Dahlonega, Georgia. My newest niece, Dyan from Singapore, agreed to drive. She picked up her mother-in-law, Addie first, me second, and we headed toward Atlanta to pick up Kate and Mary Larson (Mary is an honorary Holt woman, made so just for purposes of these outings). Dyan who has traveled all over the world was born and raised in Singapore, so driving in the mountains was a challenge for her. She seemed to speed into the curves, and Kate, who is named for Shakespeare's shrew, kept offering driving advice from the navigator's seat. Of course, we got lost, but being women we stopped immediately at a rural gas station for directions. Mary got out to try the ATM, Dyan realized that she was pulled up to the pump on the wrong side, so she moved the car so the tank was on the correct side. Dyan started to hand Kate $20 for the gas, but Kate said no she had it, and Dyan could pay her later. Kate went in, paid the woman at the cash register, and asked for directions. Addie and I remained in the back seat. Everyone got back in the car, and Kate was chirping on about how the woman attendant wasn’t even able to find herself on the map let alone where we wanted to go, but a customer knew the directions precisely and Kate carefully wrote them down. The directions were perfect and in a few minutes we were parked at the winery and made our way to the lovely deck overlooking the mountains. It was an ideal sunny spring day to sit out like this. We had two feisty, charming waitresses who brought us lunch and the “pairings” of wine. When we were about ¾ way into the meal, one of the waitresses came and asked if we had come in the silver Lexus. Yes, we said. Then she said wait a minute I’ll be back. We thought maybe we were blocking someone. After a few minutes an armed policeman came to the table and asked if the driver of the vehicle, “Holt” was at the table. Dyan said, yes, and was asked to follow him. The four of us sat there rather stunned with all kinds of thoughts running through our head. Perhaps someone had hit the car in the parking lot? Dyan and Rafe had purchased the car from an ad on the internet about three months ago. Perhaps it was hot? The license stickers were current, so that wasn’t a problem. After a few minutes, Kate, Dyan’s sister-in-law, said I’m going to see if I can help. In about five minutes, Kate returned to the table to say that the people at the gas station had reported that we had driven off without paying for the gas! This was outrageous to us, because Kate had handed the woman a $20. I decided I should also speak to the officer, and I must admit I started by telling him I was a retired professor from UGA (hoping he wasn’t from Florida or Tennessee), and that perhaps the confusion for the people in the gas station was that Dyan had moved the car from one pump to another. He was very nice and said he had to make the report, but he really thought there was a mistake. We were all thinking who in the hell would steal gas and tell the people at the station where they were headed for lunch? He left and we returned to the table. Our waitresses were hilarious. They said, “Welcome to Lumpkin County!” They said they knew we were criminals the moment they saw us walk in! Then, the proceeded to tell us stories of people in their families who had been treated similarly. They brought us a nice on-the-house plate of desserts. Of course, this a very conservative and redneck area, and Dyan is dark-skinned, and there definitely are not many people of color in the mountains, so that may have figured into our pursuit by the police. The good news was that the officer phoned Dyan before we left the restaurant and said he had returned to the gas station. He was not going to file any report he said, as it appeared the woman working the cash register was not having a good day and was confused. As we left the winery, passing by the tasting bar, the men working at the bar said to us, “There goes the Thelma and Louise crowd.” Everyone was laughing including us.