Stubby hubs hunk and I had a date last week. For no reason. Dinner just the two of us. On a wednesday. Even more hair curling (like I need that) it was his idea. I was thrilled to bits, until ……..I met our waitress.
Now, I waited tables for some time in my other life. I’m even willing to admit that while I performed the desired task of bowing to the patrons every need, I didn’t always do it with a cheesy grin. I have a hard time pulling off disingenuous pleasantries. I could keep the act up for so long before someone would get under my skin. This usually transpired after I had diligently delivered several vessels of alcoholic finery. People get dumber when they get drunk. Only made worse by their belief that they are being witty, or charming, or cute. So while I wasn’t telling them that they were none of these things I also wasn’t playing along that they were. It was a 50/50 shot that they could tell. Bar tending was better because the people who bellied up to the bar seemed to fall faster and harder and cared less if you went down with them. The happy hour crowd were the best. They just wanted the drinks flowing, they didn’t care who brought them. My kinda crowd. Dealing with real living people but not being engaged in their game. Perfect for observing humans and their mating dance.
Back to dinner:
We went to one of our favorite places. A lovely neighborhood restaurant with great food and wine. We were greeted at the door by a very smiley young woman who acted as if she knows us. I’m sure she did not. She sat us at a lovely table in the corner by the fireplace. Sweet! She gave us a minute to settle in and then returned to take our drink order. “would you like something more exciting to drink?” she asks. I’m assuming she means more exciting than the water that was already on the table, but I found myself wondering if the glass of Pinot noir that I was about to order was exciting enough. It is wednesday after all. Not really a day for jäger bombs or flaming polocks ( I made that one up. Stubs is polish so it seemed a safe way to go) her prodding aside I decided to stick with the wine. “of course,” she said, like she didn’t peg us as flaming polocks any way.
She returned with our drinks to tell us about the specials. This was when I got insight into her game. She made A LOT of eye contact and her head bobbed up and down and back and forth from stubs and myself, like a bobble head on an unpaved back road. She gave us a few minutes to decide. We spent that time talking about how much she was freaking us out. Stubs thought she was talking to us as if we were on the romper room show and she was looking through her magic mirror. I, well, I wasn’t sure what to think, but I hoped that the wine would make me feel less….weird. She came back to take our order and continued in the same bobbing and weaving that made me want to look away. She almost did a happy dance because of the dinner choices we made. As if we were so smart that we had picked the best two things on the whole menu. I began to worry that maybe she was going to slip whatever she was on into my dinner. Imagine, me that bubbly, not being able to get away from myself or stop myself.
And I see shelly and bobby, oh there’s sherif and hanzel. No I’m pretty sure I wasn’t cut out for romper room. That lady always gave me the creeps.
At the end of the dinner, we debated the prudence of tipping her. The last thing we wanted to do was foster that strange behavior, but she had met our every need. In the end we did the right thing. What if the effervescence was a result of her being medicated to quell some dark monster within? The last thing we wanted was to contribute to an inability to refill her meds.
It was a lovely date night stubs, thanks for the love.
Thanks to miss blondie and her magic mirror for making it memorable.