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Cliff got his truck fixed already, and so we drove a bunch of hours down to Stanton for buying some tools. Took the Malahi Bypass rather than Highway 2 to save some time, although that's pretty risky. That area's full of antivax/reckoner cult colonies, so you sure don't want to be stopping or breaking down or rolling windows or even just slowing down. If you like staying alive, that is. Pretty sure I saw one of their doom-wagons ahead on the road at one point, but it pulled off somewhere before they spotted us. We got lucky there.
Anyways, we get to Stanton, pick up the test kits, and think to get a burger or something before heading back. Since covid, about all the restaurants in these parts are run by the Olds, mostly elfs. Which is fine, although they mostly all have a policy of Olds eat inside, homo-saps eat outside. Covid rules, I get it, except by now it's starting to feel like some kind of first/second class segregated service thing. We're sitting out in the rain on milk crates at some wobbly old card table when the elf takes our order. An hour goes by, we're soaking wet, and still waiting for our food. We look in the window, and we can see the kitchen staff are out by the fireplace, hanging with their guests, raising glasses, playing uno, and whatever. And at this point, we're just like, to hell with this, and we get up and leave. I don't think they ever meant to bring us food.