Clearly You Don't Understand........

Tempest Chronicles Day 70

The beauty of huge city-wide drunken apocalyptic stupidity fests is that the next morning is like a hurricane evacuation and there is no one around except for those of us with good sense.

About a block from the house we see an adorable little black and white frog come out from behind a trash can. Both Ed and I freeze. I don’t know about him, but I haven’t seen a frog in ages.

“Hello cutie.” I say changing my mug from left to right.

Ed’s first reaction to anything new is of course to put it in his mouth and he is starting to salivate.

“Nope….we are not going to be responsible for tilting the balance of the environment because you can’t keep your tongue in your mouth. No amphibian breakfast for you.” I declare, leading, practically dragging him out into the street. He moves forward, but his eyes gaze behind. The side eye of hatred is palpable.

When we get to the rainbow, there’s a woman obviously training for the Olympics going up and down the stairs skipping a few, squatting a few, sideways stepping a couple, and it takes a side eye of hatred from me to get her to move along.

“You’ve got ‘til 2028 Flo Jo.” I say under my breath.

When we get to the river, there’s a sort of brackish stagnant smell coming off the Mississippi and I hear but don’t see some splashing that I conclude is an out of area porpoise running some ladders before his friends show up. The perfect V of the ducks with their gentle hello quack makes me happy to be here, for some reason I don’t even mind the high pitch whine of blood sucking, disease spreading, people killing insects that have been the scourge of mankind since the half eaten apple was dropped in the garden.

I refuse to give any neural network attention to the short bus of high maintenance Karens that were deposited at the front door of the restaurant last night around mid shift.

Except for this one excerpt……..

The day started out with such promise, there were dark clouds and tiny drops of rain I became almost giddy with the fantasy of a lightening strike sending hoards of Red Dressers to jump into the river in an attempt to escape Zeus’ wrath. But it was not to be, the sun parted the overcast, and brought steam up from the earth which met the moisture from the atmosphere making the entire French Quarter a terrarium with a lid securely on.

The crowd outside when I opened up at 5 were extremely well behaved, waiting for me to signal them in. Most even thanked us for being open so I guess my reputation proceeds.

When we filled up, there was a party of 7 red dressers celebrating a birthday who I expected to walk away sulking when I told them it might be an hour before I could seat them.

“Oh…..ok….where can we go?” one of them asked, no tears, no statement of unfairness, no “I’ve got a better idea” reaction, just a calm relay of her phone number and saying that they would return upon my summons.

“Either the crowd is getting better or I’m getting used to it after 20 years.” I say to the table sitting by the door who laugh goodnaturedly.

Almost immediately the jinx appeared.

“We’ve got 7.” said an agitated, short, polyester clad, maiden clutching a lime green ‘hand grenade”. The alcohol had gone straight to her bladder and she was doing the pee dance that is a staple of these events. Her youth of course tells her that she is the ONLY person who has been in this situation and she needs a wide berth.

“I have a 7 before you.” so it will be at least an hour and a half.

“Ok…” she says tap dancing in place. “Can I use your bathroom?”

“You’re gonna wait an hour and a half? You and your fellow red revelers? I doubt that.”

“Yeah…we’re gonna….” moving into prancing circus horse territory. “Bathroom?”

“Ok I’ll play this game, I’ll call you and you can tell me that I went to all the trouble of setting up the 7 top just to have you go eat somewhere else. Fun for me. Phone number?”

“Ugh 225 235 7476.” She says, walking away towards the bathroom.

“We just have 2.” says the next gal, “Will that be an hour and a half?”

“Nah…..bout 30 minutes.”

“Cool……” she prattles off the digits.

There’s bit of a lull and then, as is wont to happen, 4 tables of varying numbers leave simultaneously. This is a common occurrence during these things because, well the action is out there, not in here no matter how delicious the tiramisu is.

The busser and I are frantically trying to reset, as I take a few more phone numbers for the list, when a long haired, middle aged (I’m being generous) red tennis skirt woman sweeps into the front area.

She has maneuvered her way through the crowd waiting at the door and looks about the restaurant with a: “Helllllllllo….I’m here” sort of air about her.

“Can I help you?” I ask with my hands full of half empty water glasses.

“I don’t think you can accommodate the size of my party.” she is craning her neck to get a better look at the dining room.

“Ok, well it sounds like you’ve figured it out.” I say going back to resetting.

“Maybe we could split up? Is that possible for us to split up? Could we have a table or two then?” she says with a look of a woman who’s used to getting a man her age to do what she wants.

Need I say WRONG TREE?????

“Yeah, I don’t even know how many people are with you. How could I answer that?”

“Seven…….there’s seven of us.” she would be the absolutely perfect shop girl in a Tennessee Williams play. I can just barely see the tops of her irises so I know she’s crazy but only a little.

“Yeah, I’ve got 2 sevens ahead of you so it will be at LEAST an hour and a half.” I say, so hoping she will shrug and go into the night, but such was not to be.

“Why that’s ABSOLUTELY perfect. My name is Tessa.”

“Ok Tessa, what ‘s your phone number I will call you when I have it.”

She proceeds to give me the number and as I’m writing it down she repeats to me that she is Tessa and how absolutely perfect this is going to be.

“I’ll give you a call.” I try and cut her off but she continues to say something that I fail to hear because I am completely unconcerned.

About 10 minutes later (maybe less) there’s another rush of people at the door, some I have called, some are new and one is Tessa.

I am trying to get it sorted out when Tessa gets between me and the couple I am talking to to say: “I have worked in many 5 star resorts and I have to say that YOU are just too much. Why are these people standing here waiting?”

“Is there a reason you are here?’” I ask actually curious.

“Why would ANYONE interact with you? What are you people doing?” she asks the 5 or so people crowding into the area.

“Do you still want a table?” I ask feeling my spine contract.

“Absolutely not…..I have worked at 5 star resorts………” she starts again.

“Then get out. I have no intention of listening to your stellar customer service bullshit. Either leave now or I will have you escorted.” I say, scratching that 7.

“Why are you all here?” she starts back.

In retrospect, I know it was wrong, but I placed my hand on Tessa’s bare shoulder and said: “Go AWAY NOW. No one cares about you. Head back to your 5 star resort where ever the fuck that is. GO AWAY".

“Don’t touch me!!!” of course she replies and of course I realize I’m wrong.

And then something so terrific and so sweet and so……….comrade-in-arms-like happened as a regular from the bar across the street was coming through the door for his to go order.

Tessa looked at him as he was holding the door for her and in her now predictable nasal drone said: “Why are you here? This man is SO rude! I suggest everyone go someplace else!”

“Bitch shut the fuck up!” he said. “I been coming here back when that hairdo was in style. Do you know what this place is like during this shit? Go back to where ever you think you need to be. I’m going to get my pizza. Get out the way.”

And with that, he wedged himself between Tessa and the door and proceeded to head to the back, while some unknown hairy, pink scalped, semi, masculine, red dresser grabbed Tessa’s arm and pulled her to safety and into the night.

Sometimes diplomacy pans out………………

Vitals: 84 degrees with a “blast” of 3 MPH heated air and an 80% humidity makes it feel like you just woke up in the salted nut display counter at you local 1970’s Sears and Roebuck……..

67 days down……

115 days to go………