Sitting in this overpriced airport restaurant, I notice the woman across the way from me has Meg Ryan’s hair from “French Kiss.” Only not in an adorable way. Come to think of it, Meg Ryan’s hair wasn’t that adorable, either. Stupid movie, too. “Lactose INTOLERANT!!!” My terrier mix could have written better dialogue.
Meg Ryan Wanna Be is also being a snotty, high maintenance whore dog to the waitress. To MY waitress, who happens to be sweet and a good waitress, and working her ass off. Looks like the uptight, white bread, suburban bitch isn’t happy about her steak. It’s a fucking AIRPORT RESTAURANT, you twat. This isn’t The Mansion, Miss Priss-Ass.
Ooh, now some wanna be hipster doofus douchebag is draining a beer (probably imported, and on tap) on the other side of the room. He is obviously watching me as I roll my yes about the Wonder Bread Bitch. In fact, he smirked earlier when another waitress asked me, “You like pepper, no?” after I had emptied half the pepper shaker on my roasted chicken. Ya think, sistah? But hipster? Needs to leave. I really must be allowed to sit in judgment and derision of this hateful woman without having an audience. Shoo, fly!
So now Hard Working Waitress (or HW2 for short) comes out with the THIRD FUCKING STEAK this woman has requested be recooked for her. (I kid you not.) She places it down on the table and Prom Queen is now sending back her asparagus to have butter placed on it. No asking for some butter, no. No, I’d really like it if the chef sent me some clarified butter or perhaps some Hollandaise sauce for these, no.
As HW2 was walking past my table, I called HW2 over. “I thought maybe I’d send back my creamed spinach four or five times, okay?” She mumbled some oft-rehearsed, “It’s my job” blah blah blah. I thought it was funny and that she would laugh, but I see she is one of those employees you never want to lose: She loves her job, she takes the bad with the good, and she doesn’t take it personally. I hope this woman goes far in life. She handled all this and me (and my indecisiveness) with a HUGE smile on her face and no bitterness! I gave a huge tip despite the fact she could have had a comeback (which would have made my day!). Most of us need our jobs, I get it. But I would have loved to have heard what she wanted to say about that customer. Oh, and to watch her spill ice water down that bitch’s back.
So I get home and try to watch my DVR recording of SVU and Hell-OH! It’s like the Weather Channel or some shit! (Seriously, my thoughts and prayers go out to those affected in any way by the tornadoes in Texas last night – love and hugs to you all!).
I watched the storms for a while, since I wasn’t here to hyperventilate about it on my own.
Hey, have you ever noticed that weathermen, um, weatherpeople, no wait, just weatherMEN, get all excited when the shit goes down in regards to bad weather? Kinda creepy.
I think the term “Hook echo” is like porn for weathermen.
P.S. Met a beautiful and hilarious Irish lass in the bar next to my gate. What pisses me off is that I meet the coolest chicks when I have no way of hooking up with them to become friends. Bad timing. Sad, too, because I swear I snorted like three times talking to her!