Two well-dressed men walked into our restaurant just as we were
about to close for the night. They
arrived with a stroller… and an attitude. In the stroller was a Louis Vuitton bag. And in the designer bag (you've probably
guessed it) a dog.
Wow. What am I
in for. AND they're arriving at closing
time. Ugh.
As
I approached the table, one of the men asked, “Can we move the heater closer to
us?” I explained the heater was for all
guests (and it was already closest to their table). I also informed him there
was an additional heater above them. He
gave me a disgruntled look. I asked if
he would like a blanket. He eagerly
accepted and when I brought it he placed it on the Louis Vuitton bag, providing
an extra layer of warmth for their pampered doggie. He then asked for another one for
himself.
It wasn’t even
cold out.
They
spoke to each other in Spanish. And the one I’d been speaking with (wearing a lovely scarf) spoke decent
English. I recognized the accent as not
being from Mexico, which of course, is the most common Spanish speaking
clientele at our restaurant. I
immediately asked them where they were from.
Their eyes opened and they smiled.
“Hablas Español?” I smiled and
replied, “Si, yo lo hablo.” Their
attitude changed immediately. They were
shocked, relived and instantly became friendlier.
As
it turned out, they were from Buenos Aires and were traveling all over the US
for the first time. Because I’d been to Buenos Aires a few times and I was
familiar with South America, we completely hit it off at that point. We talked about Argentina, Punta del Este in
Uruguay and other places we’d traveled to in South America. He went on and on… and I did too. Who
doesn’t love to connect with strangers through common countries and places they’ve
visited in the world.
I
got caught up in it all and finally realized it was twenty minutes after
closing. I finally took their orders as
the kitchen was about to close. I ran
back to the kitchen to tell the chef that was my last order of the night. He looked at me like, “It better be.”
Oops. My bad.
At
the table next to the Argentinians were two blonde women in their mid -20’s
sharing multiple bottles of wine. They
were pretty tipsy at this point in the evening. They were both dog lovers and easily convinced
the doting dog owner to allow them to pet their little one. He unzipped the Louis Vuitton bag and
unveiled their little black wiener dog / princesa. The girls awed in loving amusement. He placed “Frita” on the blonde’s lap. She shouted, “She’s so soft and smells sooooo
good.” She held her up and asked me to
smell her. Weird. But I accepted. I took a sniff. Wow.
She actually smelled quite amazing. She had apparently been doused in perfume. She smelled better than most woman, myself
included. The big man told us the
perfume name and said that’s “her favorite.”
Oh em gee. I think that perfume must be HIS favorite.
The
blonde who wasn’t holding the perfumed princess took off and had to leave due
to “boy issues.” So the remaining blonde
and the Argentinian, the one who spoke decent English, chummed up and talked
non-stop. I felt bad for his lover not
only because he didn’t speak any English and was completely left out of the
conversation, but I think he actually got jealous. But his annoyances were justified. If he
wasn’t gay, I bet his partner and the blonde would have exchanged phone numbers
and met up for after-dinner drinks.
An
hour after closing and the Argentinians were still nibbling their well-done steaks
(of course they ordered their steaks “well done” as my last late table of the
night). The blonde and the big
gay-considering-to-play-ball-for-the-other-team guy continued on and on and on...
borderline flirting and laughing with no end in site.
I’m never
getting out of here.
Finally,
about two hours after closing, the blonde decided either she’d had enough to
drink or realized his partner was ready to leap across the table and strangle
her, she cashed out and stumbled off into the night. About 15 minutes later, the couple realized
they were the only people left in the restaurant (yes it really took them this long to realize this) and asked for
the check.
Por Fin! (Finally.)
I
sent my Colombian busser out to pick up some remaining dishes hoping to speed
things along. BAD mistake. He’s young,
good looking AND speaks fluent Spanish (of course).
WHAT was I
thinking.
Now
the jealous Argentinian had a chance to get even. He talked and
talked to my busser asking everything from other good restaurants with
ocean views, to live music venues to nightclubs in the area. I think another twenty minutes went by before
that conversation ended.
They
set cash down to pay and chatted a bit more with me. It was two and a half hours after closing
time when they finally left.
What a
doozie.
However,
when it was all said and done, and I was at home in my jammies, I realized how
much I really enjoyed the big gay Argentinians, the dog-loving tipsy blonde and
the wonderfully scented Dachshund named Frita.
~ HK ~
No comments:
Post a Comment