Score One For The Port

This evening while waiting for our table with my friends for GNO, the time kept passing and passing without the loungers at the occupied tables getting up. To pass the time we caught up on each other’s lives and reminisced.

Noticing a filthy table just sitting there, one of my friends went to see what was happening and if we were next in line to sit. With an “of course, someone will be right out to seat you,” we shifted the conversation to drinks.

Finally seated, we caught up some more and more, until I finally said, where the hell is the waiter??

Since each of the other ladies had already gone inside the restaurant to find the hostess, it was time for me. And since I was the only Jew of my peeps, perhaps it was the way in which they politely asked… all I know is, this was my wheelhouse.

When I got inside to the hostess, she was off to get the manager immediately. Once I saw the manager, I flashed my port glue/scar/bruise and said, “if I don’t eat something soon I am going to have to go home for meds.”

After that, the food and the waitress came methodically.

About Lady in Red

mom of 3
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