This pissed me off so bloody fucking badly I could just spit shit and shit nails. Big ones. Sideways. WTF!!!
We got together with a couple of our very good friends this evening for and impromptu Friday night fish fry and catch up session. We had not seen each other since sometime in October before their cruise and we were all long overdue for some grease and gab. Of course, we end up at one of our favorite little local dives out in the burbs. It's the quintessential Wisconsin "supper club". It's family owned, a bit run down, has never been remodeled since it was built in 1660, pours heavy double drinks and has a salad bar. You just don't get more Wisconsin than that. The only thing this place is missing is several generations worth of dead dear and moose heads on the walls. And that is only because the ceilings are too low to accommodate the antlerage. It's a wonderous place. The average age of the patrons is about 112. Centuries, not years... Yeah, this is 'sconsin in all of it's glory.
When we all arrived at 4 o'clock the place was empty. An hour later the bar was packed, the restaurant was damned near full and the lobby looked like the evacuation of Saigon. We all decided it was time to dive for the hostess station and get a table fast. Which we somehow managed to do. We were seated in a section of the dining room that had one waitress. Who was up to her eyeballs in a 10-top, and 8-top, a 6-top and 2 other 4-tops besides ours. Oh god, she couldn't tread water fast enough. It was separate check hell!!! Fortunately we were there for the long haul of cocktails and catch up so we were her saving grace. Every table around us turned at least twice while we drank and giggled. My god, that waitress worked her skinny little young ass off.
Now, I was a waiter for way too many freaking years so I know how to judge this stuff. At one point damn near every table in our area got up and hit the salad bar at once. I know what that means. Log jam at the lettuce!!! Time for another round of drinks until they get back so we can get a crack at it. By the time we finally made our break for the salad bar the crowd was thankfully gone, the staff was hastily restocking it and it was ours alone. Except for that SOB on the other side. Little did I know just how fucking badly he was about to piss me off...
I watched as he piled a salad plate high with cottage cheese and cole slaw. OK, I thought to myself, you're a little jello-y in the mid section so maybe that's a good idea for you. Then we meet face to face at the soup tureens. There's one soup bowl left. And with out batting an eye that cocksucker looks at me and says "Sir, here, you take that bowl." I damned near put him face down in the navy bean and ham!!! SIR??? SIR??? That motherfucker called me "Sir"!!! He was in his 40's for christ's sake. Nobody calls me "Sir" and lives to tell about it. Who the bloody hell do I look like, Mrs. Roosevelt??? Sir??? WTF??? Well, the next thing you know there's cottage cheese and cole slaw all over the ceiling and the sneeze guard , I've got the guy down on the floor, I'm kneeling on this chest and threatening to decapitate him with a soup spoon and a bread stick. It took two waitresses, a bus boy and the sous chef to get me off of him. All of us covered in lettuce, fat free Ranch dressing, croutons and cucumbers. It wasn't pretty...
Around about midnight, when the McFarland police were finished processing me, Sea Squirt was able to bail me out, get me home, calm me down and hose me off in the shower. And then he turns to me and says "Honey, look on the bright side. At least he didn't call you 'Pops' ". I suffocated him with the shower curtain... And then I put him in the trunk of his car. In a couple of days I will file a missing persons report. Maybe... When they finally find him I will simply tell the authorities that he had become despondent...
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