An old story that made me happy I no longer have my former life, and since I have nothing new today (I promise nothing relating to unsavory bodily functions tomorrow):
*I'm sitting here remembering the time a guy came into my restaurant mid dinner rush and sat at the bar, much like any normal, functional customer. He ordered some food (rather coherently, I may add) and a glass of wine (Cabernet, I think). About a minute and a half later, I look over from across the room to see him & his bar stool tipping backwards, as if in slow motion. Before I could even attempt my superhero slo-mo dive...Crash! Right in the middle of Saturday night dinner rush. With a packed-to-the-gills house.
I didn't even have time to freak out as I was overcome. Literally.
About 10 seconds after the fall...
came the smell.
Acrid, dense and familiar. We've all smelled it before.
He peed his pants. In the middle of the dining room.
He was stinking, reeking, lingering-in-the-air-like-a-dog-fart drunk.
My instinct, once I realized he was Drunky McRetard and not "legitimate customer with a lawsuit they will win", was to drag him out to the bus bench in front and leave him there for the bus company or the other drunks to deal with. But, Sir Drunksalot was coherent enough to decide that he was hurt.
Quickly I did a mental inventory- Did we pay our insurance this month? Hmmmm...I think so.
Did we still have that greasy, smarmy lawyer? Ha! As if we could get rid of that little turd. So, yes- check.
All I could do was try and look concerned like a good business owner while the cops were called.
And look around to see the mortified faces while trying to figure out who will inform the local food critics of this wonderment.
Well, any publicity is good publicity- right?
In the 10 minutes it took the cops to get there the pee stink had pretty much enveloped the entire front dining room. Thickly.
Did anyone gag? No.
Did anyone verbally express their disgust? No.
Did anyone seem all that concerned? No.
Eventually (about 20-25 minutes into this debacle as reports had to be made in triplicate and oaths had to be taken) the stench offender was hauled off to the drunk tank and we were left to clean up the pee. In front of everyone enjoying their urine-infused dinners.
The funny part was- no one left. Everyone pretty much just watched and kept eating.
People kept ordering, we kept serving.
Because, damn it, we were a fine group of restaurant professionals. We HAD to get through Saturday rush, come hell or high...you know.
Pee or no pee.
Really? I prefer none to some, in this case.
I sometimes wonder if Drunky had any recollection of the evening or if he just woke up in detox wondering when exactly he had gone puddle jumping.
Fare thee well, Drunky. Fare thee well.