Rolling with my homelies

Sunday afternoon, that lucky Flour Bluff girl and I decided to make a little lunch run over to Fulton Beach, in Fulton, Texas; a short 40 miles and a world away. We called our other brother, Darryl, arranged to get up with him, and off we went. We took the scenic route on roads that by-pass the SH-35 by-pass around the towns of Port Aransas and Rockport. The tides have been particularly high, recently, and as we rode Fulton Beach Road, we could see that parts of it had been covered. We’d decided to dine at Alice Faye’s Restaurant, a long-time favorite. However, after asking to be seated on the patio, we were forgotten. I guess we weren’t potential tippers for the dining room twinkie who greeted us, so she blew us off. Well, I like to eat at Alice Faye’s as much as the next guy but it’s against my principles to put up with crappy wait staff, no matter how good the food is. My decision to, “fuck this”, went as un-noticed as our exit. Charlotte Plummer’s Restaurant was more than willing to sell a meal to a handsome stranger.

"We're hungry!", was my answer to the pretty waitress', "How are y'all doin', today?"

"Well, you're in the right place", she assured us.

We were. Seated upstairs, enjoying delicious seafood, with a perfect day just on the other side of the window, we congratulated ourselves on having it dicked.



The second floor has a great view of the marina, as did the deck behind the building.




After, we made our way down the newly paved street.



It seemed obvious to me that the city got a two-for-one deal on some stop signs. Four-way stops, ever few yards, seems a poor idea for a restaurant row in a tourist town. We had quite enough of stop-and-go, toot sweet, and turned off the beach road and into Fulton, proper, making for the state highway that takes us back to where we belong.