I’m reciting the specials to a two top by the window. In typical yuppie fashion they don’t make eye contact. Sick of talking to these social misfits my eyes begin to wander. A pretty girl walks past the restaurant with her dog. I take an appreciative look.
I glance back at my table. Nope, still not looking at me. I look out the window again.
People of all shapes and sizes walk by on this hot day. I’m just getting around to the fish specials when I see HIM.
I blink my eyes.
No it can’t be.
Lumbering towards the restaurant, in all his dreadful majesty, is the infamous Dark Lord of the Sith.
“Excuse me one sec,” I say to my customers.
I run out the front door. Openmouthed I watch Vader approach. Funny -he looks a lot taller in the movies.
“Hi,” I say in amazement.
“Hello there,” Darth Vader replies pleasantly.
“Must be hot as hell in that suit.”
“You ain’t kidding,” Vader says walking past me.
I stand and watch the Dark Lord go around the corner. The pretty girl with the dog comes next to me. She’s chuckling softly.
“Tell me I wasn’t seeing things,” I ask her.
“You weren’t,” she laughs.
“For a moment there I thought I had to go back on the meds.”
“No – you really saw Darth Vader walking down the street,” she says.
“He must be sweating bullets in that outfit.”
“I think he’s going to a costume party somewhere.”
“God I hope so.”
“You know those Star Wars fans….” the girl says shrugging.
I thank the girl and walk back inside.
Of course the yuppies are looking at me now.
“Sorry folks but Darth Vader just walked by.” I say happily.
The couple looks at me like I’m smoking crack.
“Well, that’s not something you see everyday,” I add weakly.
“We’re ready to order now,” the man says flatly.
I guess some people have no sense of humor.
The man and woman tell me what they want. Without saying thank you they dismiss me by carelessly thrusting their menus in my face. I feel a sudden hot spurt of anger.
I reach out with the Force and wrap it’s dark tendrils round the couple’s throats. It would be fun to see them sputter and choke. I squeeze.
I mentally squeeze harder.
The man looks at me quizzically. “We’re done here waiter,” he says.
“Very good sir,” I say disappointedly. Taking their menus I head to the back. Gerald, another waiter, is sitting by the POS computer mopping his brow. Even inside the Bistro the heat’s oppressive.
“You’ll never guess who I saw outside,” I say entering the order.
“Who?” Gerald asks.
“Really?” Gerald says, his face brightening.
“Must be a costume party somewhere.”
“Guy dressed up as Vader in this heat? He’s crazy.”
“I should have asked him if he wanted a job here,” I sigh.
“Can you imagine that? He’d choke the shit out of all the customers,” Gerald laughs.
“Wouldn’t it be cool if you could do that? I wanted to mentally strangle those rude yuppies on table twenty-six. Too bad I can’t do it.
Gerald’s eyes widen. “Your powers are weak old man,” he says.
“Screw you Gerald.”
Gerald walks away laughing.
I angrily watch table twenty-six. Some people go out to eat because they’re hungry. Others eat out because they’re too lazy to cook. But some people frequent restaurants to indulge a false sense of superiority.
I really wish I could force choke those bastards.
I guess I have to spend more time in my meditation chamber.
Now where did I put my lightsaber? That’ll fix ’em.
I really enjoyed the latest installment of the Star Wars movies Revenge of the Sith. Yes, it would be nice to have powers to quell the rude and unprincipled people out there. But until that day, we’ll just have to think that we’re morally superior to them and not sink to their depths. Not really sastisfactory but it’ll have to do. 🙁
You have no idea how much I sympathise…though I don’t know what’s worse, yuppies with a superiority complex, drunken hockey fans or Doctors in scrubs that order round after round of beer (that was an unnerving experince…if you’re ever in Detroit and you need surgery, avoid St. Johns)
Gosh, like you’ve said before Waiter, people without a humour are just so, so bland. Without laughter, you jus’ oughta go shoot yourself in the head – I could never imagine being so cold.
Thanks for all the Star Wars references! 😉
I worry about you. I see you bringing a gun to work and going crazy. I’m glad I don’t live on the East Coast!
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In my opinion the fact he gets his frustrations out here means he’s a lot less likely to crack and actually do anything to anyone at work. Telling or writing down your frustrations can be very therapeutic.
But either way, awesome blog, I’ve been reading through it the last few days after some friends linked it.
Table twenty six seems to give you problems a lot…
Max: I bet the restaurant did not have 26 tables, and ‘Table 26’ was a code for something else. A replacement number to preserve anonimity.
Tables in restaurants are numbered. I’m sure he was referring to the table that the yuppies were sitting at. It was probably table number 26. They aren’t numbered by how many there are, just in sections.
Sometimes the placement of the table causes problems. I used to work in a resturant and the six tops who sat at 18/19 were always hell, but the six tops who sat at 11/12 were always sweet. Table 1 and 9 were right next to each other, both in the window, but 9 seemed to attract assholes, where as 1 attracted older couples who tipped reasonably well for seniors, but were easy to deal with.
Maybe there’s more to numerology than we think?