Saturday night was WEIRD. I expect Saturdays to be full of people who go out to dinner once a month, fear the menu and despise the staff. This one wasn't much different, except there were way more weirdo's prowling. Where did you come from, Saturday night Aliens? Let me explain. Five diners enter the restaurant. Older couple, younger lesbian couple, and then... this other person. We could not comprehend this wild card. She was really tall for a little kid, or really short for an adult. But which was she? She was indeed a Benjamin Button character but not hot like Brad Pitt (she was not even not-not hot*). She had crazy black curly hair with a creepy old person porkpie hat resting on the top, tiny little black eyes a-scowling, and a pink trench coat. She was spindly like an old person, but with the face of a horrible little child.
Holly was thrown by her as well, it wasn't just me being judgemental and mean as usual.
HOLLY: Would you like to wait at the bar while we get your table together... Wait a second, are you a weird old person or are you not even of age?
LITTLE WEIRDO: What do you mean, "of age" *picks nose*
HOLLY: Never mind... We'll hide you in a corner shortly...
LITTLE WEIRDO: Can I see the dessert menu please?
So, they sat down and I immediately regretted choosing the back section of the restaurant as my territory for the night. The only drink ordered: an amaretto sour. Who the hell, (besides Shane and I as of that moment,) orders an amaretto sour? Some day, I'm sure that little individual will. She drank nothing though. She did however order all of the biggest things on the menu. She might have weighed sixty five pounds and was probably 5' tall. I wondered where she planned on putting all that food, and it turned out she planned on cutting it all into tiny bits and scrabbling it up on the plate until it looked like puke and then not eating it. She didn't speak, and when her mother's birthday cheese plate arrived, her little claw darted out and she stole one of the three pieces of cheese on the plate. It was like watching a frog catch a fly with its tongue. She ate the cheese with blank beady eyes and chewed like a cow eating grass. It was horrible. I asked the mom how she felt about that little person stealing one third of her dessert in one foul swoop, and she laughed nervously. I'm glad its over now, but I don't think I'll ever get that blank stare out of my mind. What if she ruined manchego for me forever? BITCH!
Restaurants. Full of people having awkward social interactions. That's usually where I come in, filling hateful silences with mindless chatter about sweetbreads, interrupting passionate public make-out's with bad news about desserts. I do my best! I just couldn't bring myself to bail out that table.
*not hot/not-not hot is a game we invented in New Orleans. It basically asks the questions, would you sleep with them but never tell anyone (not-not hot) or would you not even let them buy you dinner (not hot)? (Another example of shallow, nasty behavior on my part. I blame Kevin.)