In Solvang, no less . . .

Jen and I drove up to Solvang this afternoon in search of Danishes and other Danish things. Amid our hours of shopping for tasty foods and amazingly good deals on a variety of odd, non-Danish items (hats, great shoes, Victorian blouses, jewelry, Swedish flags), we decided to stop in at the Red Viking for a late lunch.

As we stood in front of the window of the Red Viking, glancing at the menu to see if vegetarianism was acceptable in Danish town, we noticed that the front of the restaurant was filled with bikers. I catch on to this fact as we move toward the door, and, rather loudly pronounce, "Oooh! Bikers!" I expected them to turn and glare and get all Hell's Angels on my ass, but they did no such thing. It was as if they didn't even hear me. In fact, the whole dining room was silent. Then we saw that between bites of food, every single one of the bikers was signing in ASL.

It was by far the strangest thing I have ever seen . . . an entire room of deaf bikers . . . and in Solvang, of all places.