Not to be a total buzz kill, but please don’t whip out your drug den at the dinner table.
It was our anniversary last night. Hubby and I were gonna go to Olive Garden and mainline some salad dressing, but I received a text from a gal pal who stated that her present evening at Olive Garden was disastrous. Complete with screaming children and wife beaters. So thinking that it was an Omen, I turned the car towards Stix. I love Stix. It is a Japanese Steak House complete with tempura grilling right in front of you and the funny chef (who is usually Mexican) hamming it up for my dining pleasure. Yes, he DID say he just arrived from Arizona. (hardy har har)
We are seated at a table with a nice family of five…or so I thought. The waitress brings us our salads and we ask for chop sticks. The young boy with the family wants chop sticks too! His mother suggests that he may starve to death, but he can try it out for the first time.
Next comes the fried rice. Piles of it land on each plate. The young boy asks for extra “cool sauce” on his. Then Dad says something to the effect of “time for a shot”. Silly me, I thought he was reaching into his bag for a camera. You know, cute shot of his young son flailing with chop sticks and overly seasoned rice??? Nope.
Dad pulls out his pharmacy-to-go and proceeds to display all of the items all over the table. He pushes his plate of rice over to the side and his glass of sweet tea. He pulls out needles, a glass jar of medication, a rubbery arm strap kinda thing…
HELLO? KIMMER IS HORRIFIED AT THE SIGHT OF NEEDLES!!!! Yes, maybe I am a bit overly dramatic at the sight of needles, doctors, the smell of hospitals, germs… But this is currently my dinner table. DINNER TABLE!
(I would no sooner appreciate a woman whipping out her boob and stuffing her child’s suckling face on there at the dinner table either.)
Call me a prude. Shut up.
I understand that Dad was at his dinner table too. He apparently has no problem interrupting his family’s mealtime and they apparently have no issues with it either. However, Dad was sharing a table with me and I didn’t appreciate it. I did not make a scene other than to keep my head turned to the far side and not eat until I was certain he had cleaned up everything and removed it from the table.
I think I got him back though, after dinner the family was preparing to pay their bill when I ordered a huge “Volcano Brownie” for dessert. Hubby and I shared this incredibly rich fudge concoction while the young son whimpered and whined the entire walk out of the restaurant that he wanted one too! With chopsticks!