Jimbo and the Server

Pracna on Main, Minneapolis, 2009

April in Paris? Not exactly, but as close as Minnesota will ever get. Table for two, me and an old band mate from years ago chanced to be at the same screening of a Swedish art film. After the show, we went next door to the restaurant which was now open to the elements, European style. The freak warm spell had everybody smiling. The server came over, wearing a t-shirt top and short-shorts under her order apron.
She was nearly six feet tall, with a good (very good) 36 inches of leg showing between the bottom of the shorts and her tennis shoes. My old pal, Jimbo, knew her.

We talked to her about business, the weather, all of it trite, I know, but still, those legs! She took our orders, stuffed her pad in her apron and, looking down, said:

"Think I should get some pants?"

Jimbo just smiled and said: "No."

I just smiled.