Save Yourself, At All Cost

The appetizers hadn't even arrived yet. They spent twenty minutes poring over the menu, in between long pulls of their gin and tonics, deciding what to order, which plates to share. The waitress made a huge production of returning to their table a third time to see if they had finally come to a decision. Sara was really looking froward to the mango sweet pepper slaw. She didn't anticipate the arrival of Daniel's ex replete with their cranky 3 year old hanging off her hip, the two of them screeching at the top of their lungs. Sara was mortified; Daniel was apoplectic. If he was embarrassed it was hard to tell amidst the name calling and laundry airing in the middle of the restaurant. Sara no longer craved pad thai. This is why she hates being set up. On paper Daniel comes off like a swell guy. Kind, competent, functional. Emotionally available, which for Sara is an accomplishment in and of itself. No more Come Here- Go Away boys. Marcia mentioned he had a son, which Sara deduced meant an ex wife slash girlfriend slash baby mama. Daniel assured her that the past was past and he was green lights from here on in, eager, willing and able to move forward, free and easy, good to go. In the midst of the trio's tantrum the waitress arrives at the table, arms laden with plates of food, eyes bulging from her head, mouth desperately trying to form some sort of communication. Sara mouthed silently over Daniel's raised, gesticulating arms: "Can you pack it to go?" No point in wasting a free meal. She'd hit the motherload of one-hit wonders in the land of Jerry Springer dating escapades. When the ex started tossing epithets Sara's way, Sara quietly grabbed her purse and slid out of the booth, backing away from the melee. As the waitress came through the swing door carrying the take away bags, Sara thanked her and grabbed both sacks before anyone realized what was happening. A piercing shriek from the child, a rowdy extended chorus of he-said, she-said and before she could count to three, Sara was out the door flagging a cab. Just wait til Tina gets a load of this. She tells the cabbie to make a stop at the liquor store. If anything called for hard alcohol, this was it. Bourbon, neat. At least she'll have leftovers for breakfast, and this way she won't have to share.

Comments

  1. UnknownOctober 25, 2013 at 11:39 PM

    I hope this isn't pulled from a recent life experience! ;-)

    ReplyDelete

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