Frink. Yes, Frink.

Last Friday Sabian and I had a little bit of Illinois in Florida. Our former pastors were passing through and we were able to meet them for lunch and some good catching up. We met them at a restaurant about an hour from us and on the way there we passed through a little town named Frink. Here is what happened in Frink.

See this guy? This is what we came upon in Frink. A crew was paving the road so we had to wait before we could pass through. This is not unusual, but what was a little nuts was this guy. You know how you pass these crews and there are always the two people, one at one end and one at the other, holding the STOP and SLOW signs? Here's an idea - why hold a sign when you can bungee it to your truck door and take a nap? When we first approached all we saw was the sign and a pair of work boots propped up on the door. As soon as we got closer, the feet disappeared and he instead was hard at work...picking at his nails. The longer we sat there, the harder it was for me to understand how this guy was making $20 or more an hour to hold a sign that he wasn't even holding.

When we did get the clearance to move on (with an escort, mind you), the person at the other end "holding" the sign was, in fact, not a person. It was a truck door. I sure hope that door sees a check in the future.

Frink.