catcall

Lunch At The DMZ

Today Adam and I went to Keechelus Lake where he went kayaking and I went for a run around the lake with the dog. It was a beautiful, sunny, crystal clear day. During my run, I fell down. It was a glorious fall, rivaled only by the beauty of the the sparkling green-blue water of the lake or maybe by the grand bald eagle that smugly sat in regal judgement, looking down his beak at the foolish clumsy mammal beneath his perch.

The clay earth around the lake's edge was dry in some parts but mushy and muddy in most parts so I decided to keep things interesting and run nice and close to the waters edge, in the mushy parts. Mid-stride my foot sunk 8 inches into a slick slimy sinkhole of brown clay muck, momentum pushed my body forward, shoved my foot deeper, and everything slowed down and stopped. It's as if I was competing in a long jump competition, but instead of landing in the fluffy sand, the pit was filled with mud.

After washing the mud from my armpits and inner ear canal and after putting the kayak back up on the car, we decided to get some lunch. There was a place in North Bend called Gordy's Barbeque where we could sit outside and since we had Luna with us and Gordy's had casual picnic tables overlooking the 9th hole of a golf course, it fit the bill.

The hostess seated us outside at one of the 22 picnic tables that were open and empty. The table was fine but piled beside it were 7 huge white coolers that were gigantic. I have no idea who owns these things in real life or how they are transported or what the hell you need that many cans or bottles of beer for because at that volume we all know it's a wiser investment to just buy a keg. Anyway. Rather than sit in the shadow of The Great Wall of White Coolers, I was drawn to a seat two tables over that afforded views of things other than the side of white coolers. The new table was right behind the 9th hole, so while I ate lunch I could be a spectator of The Great Game of White Men: Golf. I picked up our menus, silverware and condiment caddy, and we moved.

5 Minutes at new table. Water arrives.

10 Minutes.

15 Minutes. We, and the new table, have become invisible.

20 Minutes. The hostess who originally sat us came out and proceeded to say one of the most assanine things that I have heard in a long time:

"We have a problem. I'm sorry. But the server doesn't come to this table. She will only come to those 2 tables" and proceeded to point to our previous table which was 8, maybe 10, feet away.

I was ready for the punchline. Silence.

"But," I stammered. "But this table is only 10 feet from that table and that table is behind a wall of coolers and this table is in the sun."

"I'm sorry. But the server doesn't come to this table. She will only come to those 2 tables."

"But the water arrived. Someone was physically able to bring us water.... See? Look! We have water."

"Oh. That's just the busboy. He just doesn't understand."

Understand? Understand what? That walking an extra 4 paces from that table to this table is NO BIG DEAL? No, I think the mere peon of a busboy that you speak of with that holier-than-thou patronizing tone, Ms. Hostess, understands all too well.

Had we crossed the 38th parallel? Was the server afraid of getting gunned down if she dared cross the de-militarized zone? Did she have on one of those dog collars where the pup gets zapped when they cross the invisible boundary of their own backyard? All signs point to Yes. The "Because I said so!" answer has always been a lame ass response to give to a kid when the parent was asked "Why did X happen? or Why do I have to do Y?". That retort is a desperate attempt to save face when there exist no logic or fact to support one's position. The Because I Said So Mandate must die and it must die at the hands of the freedom fighter in us all who requires an explanation to hold some semblance of sense.

Under the stern gaze of Fraulein Gordy Hostess, my muddy and hungry freedom fighter self gave up. I picked up our menus, silverware and condiment caddy, and moved back to the original table. Even Luna's tail hung lower due to her fallen human's will to take this one on.

If only I could have been there moments after we left.

Server, thinking to herself:
"Why'd I get such a shitty tip from those people?"

Me, sending telepathic messages to server:
"Because you were too lazy to walk 8 extra feet. Because you made us move and sit behind coolers for no good reason. And Because Gordy's can suck it because I'm not coming back. Those are the facts. But, actually, the real reason you got a shitty tip is BECAUSE I SAID SO."

posted by gracegow @ 8:30 PM