We Few, We Happy Few . . .

Six men and one woman sat around the table, patiently waiting for their food. No one sat anywhere near them; they were dirty, sweaty, wet and smelled vaguely of cowshit, but they were laughing, having fun and didn't even give the manager trouble when their food took forever to come out.

We'd just staggered off the fields and went in search of a local pub to laugh heartily and share tales of our exploits. We found a Hardees.

I can only imagine what people thought when we walked in, sweaty, soaking wet, covered in mud, wearing partial camoflague outfits, smelling like shit and one of us was wearing sunglasses (I broke my regular glasses while playing).

I'm half surprised no one called the cops on us.

In any case, the manager, chagrined about our wait, gave us all free cookies, so not only did we get to scare the beejesus out of the nice Wentzville residents, we got free food.

So the afternoon ended with us sitting around, wet but warm, full and happy, and making plans for our next expedition.

There are worse ways to spend a Saturday.