Those who spend time with me have
heard of my No Waitress Policy. What
this means is that I refuse to take my family to a restaurant that has waiters
or waitresses. You may think I’m crazy or consider this a bit extreme… well
let yesterday’s experience proves why we will continue to
have a No Waitress Policy.
We picked my in-laws up from the
airport which means we spent over an hour driving to airport, an hour in the
mall, an hour in the airport and drove another hour before stopping for
dinner.
We stopped at one of our favorite
restaurants and assumed that it would be pretty empty as it was early; however,
we seemed to forget it was leaf peeper season so of course it was crowded. My gut said run like the wind and order
pizza but everyone else said “it’s not that crowded” so into the parking lot we
go.
Poor little Wes had a belly ache
so I waited in the van with him for a few seconds to see if he could work it
out plus it gave Joe a chance to get seated with the crew. We finally make it in, with Wes still not
100%, and sit down. That lasts about 5
minutes, enough to get a beer ordered, and Wes is super antsy. I decide to take him outside to let him run
around because he had been forced to sit for so long. We run around for awhile and I go back
inside. I sit down and Wes is cool for another 5 mintues before banging on the
table so loud everyone looks at us. My
father-in-law graciously takes him outside so I can enjoy my beer and watch
Andrew play the iPad.
Amazing our food arrives
quickly. Both boys are eating and
everything seems ok. Then Wes pushes his feet against the table and nearly tips over
his highchair. I move him close to me
and am feeding him when I hear a crash beside me and I'm not even sure what happns next but in seconds I am COVERED in
salsa. By covered I mean it’s on my
jeans (1 of 2 pair of jeans I own and of course the more expensive of the 2),
my shirt, my face, my hair and Andrew’s shirt.
At this point I’m done. I take Andrew to get cleaned up, everyone has
finished, Wes is crying about his stomach and we still had a ½ hour to drive. So for the next ½ hour Wes fussed and I smelled like freakin' salsa.
No Waitress Policy is back in
full effect. It may be years before we try
again.
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