Waiting In Vegas

Two drunk men stumble to the hostess stand.  They are using each other for support.  The hostess seats them in my station (of course).  I give them a couple of minutes to get situated before greeting them and filling their water glasses. They both have one of those giant douche souvenir cups from some place on the strip that serves watered down drinks for an outrageous price to tourists (who think it’s a fantastic idea to get a fruity beverage in a 120 oz. container).  These men have obviously been drinking all day and both of them can hardly hold their heads up.  Knowing they are drunk enough, I acknowledge that they already have the only drinks they need and attempt to get their food order.

Drunk Guy #1: Can we order food from you?

Me: Yes. Did you decide what you would like to eat?

Drunk Guy #2: Oh my god… we can order food from you?

Me: Yes, do you know what you would like to order?

Drunk Guy #1: Are you sure we can order food from you?

Me: Yes, why would you NOT be able to order food from me?

Drunk Guy #2: I’m so confused.

Me: Me too. Would you like to order your food now or would you like more time to collect yourselves.

Drunk Guy #1: No… we are ready.

Me: OK…. (standing, impatiently waiting while two of my other tables make eye contact, indicating they need something)

Drunk Guy #2: I’ll just take some Prime Rib.

Me: We don’t have Prime Rib.

Drunk Guy #1: What do you have?

Me: A variety of things, here is the menu (pointing to the menu sitting in front of him). Read it and get back to me.

I leave the table momentarily to take care of the other tables in my section. I watch out of the corner of my eye as the two men look at the menu – holding it up to their faces and squinting.  They are so drunk that they can’t even see.  After making sure my station won’t need anything for a few minutes I return to the two drunk men and take control of the situation.  I need them to eat  & leave quickly, and I need it to happen before one of them hurls on the table.

Drunk Guy #2 (slurring): I’m so sorry, we are just so drunk, we’ve been drinking for like 4 days….

Me: It’s ok. Let’s get you some food. Did you decide or would you like me to review some choices for you.

Drunk Guy #1 (slurring worse): I think I want this cheeseburger here (he points to the menu)

I read every ingredient on the burger to him, verify his cooking temperature and do the same for Drunk Guy #2.  The two of them take turns sleeping on the table. When they aren’t sleeping they are making cat calls and blowing kisses to people walking by the restaurant. Fifteen minutes later their food arrives.  I check on them and verify they don’t need anything else.

Me: Do you two have everything you need for now?

Drunk Guy #1: I love you… like really, really love you.

Me: I get that from a lot of drunk guys – especially when I give them food.

I leave the table so they can eat.  Watching two drunk guys eat is probably one of the grossest parts of my job.  It’s like watching two hyenas ravish the rotting corpse of a zebra. It’s a grim sight. Food particles fly through the air and occasionally land on your face – or worse, in your mouth while you are talking. Their hands are fully saturated in a variety of sauces; ketchup, mustard, mayo, ranch, bbq sauce. They look like toddlers who just finished finger-painting. They make few attempts to clean their hands between bites. They take one bite and chew a few times before taking another bite without swallowing the first. Each of the few times that they take a break from shoveling food into their mouths to wipe their hands off requires four new napkins. The napkins pile up in a huge heap in the middle of the table.

Drunk Guy #2 calls my name while I am talking to a nearby table. I shoot him a “shut the fuck up and wait” look. When I return to their table Drunk Guy #2 is clearly confused.

Drunk Guy #2: Ummmmm… What did I order.

I tell him what he ordered. He replies “Oh, yeah, you’re right. I’m an asshole – just ignore me.” I assure him that I will.

Drunk Guy #1 has decided to say “I love you” to me every single time I walk anywhere near the table.  Since they are located in the middle of my section walking by them is unavoidable.  He must have proclaimed his love for me 15 times in the short amount of time it took him to devour his meal – Each time with his mouth completely full of partially chewed food.  Drunk Guy #1 screams my name from across the room.

Drunk Guy #1: You are hooooooot. So… how old are you? Like 38?

Me: Wow. Really? You think I look 38? You must like older ladies or something.

Drunk Guy #2: I think you look 25.

Drunk Guy #1: I just said the first number that came to mind. I would’ve said 94 if it came to mind.

Me: That makes sense (widening my eyes to indicate that I’m not actually serious). I’m 33.

Drunk Guy #2 asks for the check while I am prebussing the table.  I already have it in my apron and place it on the table.

Me: Excuse me (I pretend nod to another table). I’ll take your check whenever you are ready.

The drunk men fumble with their money and after several minutes pay their bill and leave.

How much did these drunk guys tip? Does it really matter? Whatever it is…it’s seldom enough.