For a crazy night, I don't have a particular episode to note. Well, except for the table of 13 kids who couldn't get their cash to add up, regardless of their iPod calculator app. How is it that not one person in the group can total the cash ON A CALCULATOR and compare it to the total, which I highlighted with a pen? The education system has failed them. They clearly need to add a Restaurant Bill chapter to the Math curriculum.
Sadly, this is nothing new. You won't believe how many times I've gotten credit card receipts and found that in the process of adding the tip into the tab, the patron mysteriously reached a total less than the actual bill.
But back to tonight. Let me first set the stage: The restaurant is very narrow and long with a tight little waist near the bar (like an hourglass). So, when the bar is 3 deep, there is a tremendous traffic jam. A cluster fuck, if you will. Now, try pushing against the current with a tray full of food and top heavy wine glasses. Top it all off with being vertically challenged. Thank God my voice carries! Weaving through the crowd sideways, really slow gets very tiresome. And that's not all.
Not that this town needs any excuse to drink but football definitely calls for liver churning binges. Inebriated, the inner crazy and perv come out to play. In my case, a drunkard seized the opportunity to grab my butt and towel (which is also back there) while I was hopeless: walking sideways, both hands occupied with various items, only allowed to go forward, and unable to look back. Sneaky bastard darted out the door before I could even think of obscenities.
Football weekends: Rowdy either way but always better when the team wins!
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