Darkness on Fine Dining

I get my food spit in every time I go to a restaurant w/ family because my mom never grew out of her need to be the center of attention.

We were at a Macaroni Grill for me sister’s b-day, and the staff are singing the birthday song to her in Italian, and halfway through my mom just loudly blurts out “IS THAT SPANISH?”

At a Sizzlers one time, I mom sent a steak back for no being rare enough, so the manager comes and brings her a new one, and she made him stick around until she had finished like 5 bites just to make sure she liked this one.

At a Denny’s just recently, there was a guy busing the table behind us, and for some reason, my mom feels the need to yell “DISH-BOY…. DISH-BOY… EXCUSE ME… HEY DISH BOY!” and so he looks over and she says “thank you.”

Best of all though, was when we were at a Mexican restaurant, and they brought out chips and salsa while we were looking over the menu. We had finished the salsa, but still had some chips left. My dad spotted his (Hispanic) higher-up from work, who came to our table to say hi. My mom assumed that this guy was the waiter coming to check on us, so she waved the empty salsa tray in front of his face while repeating “more salsa! more salsa!” with a mouth still half full of chips.

I could not help but bust up laughing at each of these events.

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