Tuesday, September 25, 2007

Trying to eat where your friend has shat . . .

I’ve got to get the whole Frankie’s waitress story blogged, so stay tuned. It involves a “magic knuckle,” if that’s any sort of teaser. In the mean-time, here’s a nugget from last night. I went to the Pub around 9:30 to have a quick beer after a satisfying rib dinner at the local mayate barbeque joint. I pulled up a seat at the bar, and ordered a pint of Newcastle. It was pretty slow in the place – Monday night and all. Frankie’s waitress was there, and she came over. I really wanted some alone time with my beer, but I was nice at first. As is her tendency, she talked and I didn’t say much. After a while, though, I got bored. Sometimes I think I have ADD, though I think really I just have a low tolerance for people that babble in general. After I’d drank about half my beer and she was still there prattling about things like – I’m not making this up – how she found a pair of shoes, boy’s size five, with wheels in the heel that she had bought herself because she wears a boy’s size five in shoes and she wanted to learn “heeling” – which I understood to mean “healing” but I was wrong and she corrected me – and she didn’t know where she could go “heel” and could I suggest a place? I got tired of listening to her. I don’t want to seem unduly cold, but seriously, it’s always been Frankie that was into this chick, not me. In fact, I was even annoyed by her back when he was in hot pursuit. In what I thought was a tactful way to bring an end to the palaver, I told her that I had a lot to think about and really I just needed to be alone for a while. She got visibly hurt about this, and sulked away to a back booth where she proceeded to play solitaire. I actually felt kind of bad about having shooed her away.

I finished my beer, went home, flossed, and went to bed. At 3:00 a.m. (2:59 to be exact) I heard the text message chime on my phone. I couldn’t imagine who would be texting me at 3:00 in the morning – either the ex or Ubermom, I thought. Curiosity got the best of me, so I checked. It was the waitress:

As i was mentally reviewing my day i thaught [sic] of you. I’m not sure i apologized for making you uncomfortable. I am sorry. Let me know if i can help.
Very strange message. I didn’t respond, since I don’t think anybody’s obligated to return a text after 12:30.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...


some orthopedic surgeon somewhere is praising the fact that these things are helping him pay for his kids' college