Did You Just Double Dip?
The other day Bridget and I went to eat at McAlister's Deli on 91st and Memorial. Usually this wouldn't exactly warrant a full blown blog entry but this was not the usual day at McAlister's either.
We ordered the same things we always order, (Spud Ole' for me and Cranberry Club for her) grabbed our numbers, and began the search for the perfect table. Inside? No, Bridget already had goosebumps. Outside? Maybe. Well....sure, why not? The temperature was perfect and the breeze was nothing too impressive, but there were so many people out there. I looked around wondering which table would be the most conducive to love-talk and found myself plopped down between a religious/political conversation and a trashy (and I don't use that word lightly) couple. It was the trashy couple that transformed my night's goal from intimate conversation to holding back uncontrollable laughter.
The trashy couple was eating chips and queso and talking when all of a sudden the gates of Hades were opened wide by one of the most trivial offenses I've ever witnessed. With my back turned to the couple I heard the hatred from the trash lady's lips singe my neck hairs.
"You just double dipped!!," she squealed. "You can finish it yourself now!" The three hit combo was completed by the grinding sound of her chair on the cement as she pushed herself away from the table.
I sensed the confusion from her companion as silence fell heavy over the patio. There was no response. None. He had obviously found himself in this situation before.
She continued to condescend with an onslaught of ridiculous rhetorical questions. "Do you not think that's rude....or disgusting....or disrespectful??!!"
At this point, Bridget and I were staring at each other with eyes wide and mouths gaping. With laughter welling up from the depths of my lungs, I corked what would have been a fountain of regret with more spud ole'.
With arms crossed, the stress of possible queso contamination overwhelmed her and she just had to light up. Smoke filled the patio, and like their previously lighthearted conversation, floated away across our table.
Their dinner miraculously continued albeit plagued with silence broken only by jabbing comments from the victim. Her sandwich eventually arrived and she barked at the server to cut it into fourths; bolstering the assumption I had that she found great pleasure in making people miserable.
With the dinner finally coming to a close, she ordered her companion to fetch some to-go boxes for their food. He dutifully arose from the table and went inside. The instant the patio door shut, she began stuffing her face with chips and queso!! I mean stuffing. She was a chip and cheese tornado evidently making up for lost time.
They say you can't have your cake and eat it too, but this night a lady used the ol' double dip over-reaction to do just that.
We ordered the same things we always order, (Spud Ole' for me and Cranberry Club for her) grabbed our numbers, and began the search for the perfect table. Inside? No, Bridget already had goosebumps. Outside? Maybe. Well....sure, why not? The temperature was perfect and the breeze was nothing too impressive, but there were so many people out there. I looked around wondering which table would be the most conducive to love-talk and found myself plopped down between a religious/political conversation and a trashy (and I don't use that word lightly) couple. It was the trashy couple that transformed my night's goal from intimate conversation to holding back uncontrollable laughter.
The trashy couple was eating chips and queso and talking when all of a sudden the gates of Hades were opened wide by one of the most trivial offenses I've ever witnessed. With my back turned to the couple I heard the hatred from the trash lady's lips singe my neck hairs.
"You just double dipped!!," she squealed. "You can finish it yourself now!" The three hit combo was completed by the grinding sound of her chair on the cement as she pushed herself away from the table.
I sensed the confusion from her companion as silence fell heavy over the patio. There was no response. None. He had obviously found himself in this situation before.
She continued to condescend with an onslaught of ridiculous rhetorical questions. "Do you not think that's rude....or disgusting....or disrespectful??!!"
At this point, Bridget and I were staring at each other with eyes wide and mouths gaping. With laughter welling up from the depths of my lungs, I corked what would have been a fountain of regret with more spud ole'.
With arms crossed, the stress of possible queso contamination overwhelmed her and she just had to light up. Smoke filled the patio, and like their previously lighthearted conversation, floated away across our table.
Their dinner miraculously continued albeit plagued with silence broken only by jabbing comments from the victim. Her sandwich eventually arrived and she barked at the server to cut it into fourths; bolstering the assumption I had that she found great pleasure in making people miserable.
With the dinner finally coming to a close, she ordered her companion to fetch some to-go boxes for their food. He dutifully arose from the table and went inside. The instant the patio door shut, she began stuffing her face with chips and queso!! I mean stuffing. She was a chip and cheese tornado evidently making up for lost time.
They say you can't have your cake and eat it too, but this night a lady used the ol' double dip over-reaction to do just that.
posted by Toby Rockefeller at 6:41 PM
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