Friday, May 05, 2006

Hubby and I experienced our first act of Peanut-related assholery this week. We totally brought it on ourselves, but the people were complete assholes about it.

We decided to eat dinner at 0live G@rden the other night. Peanut was good for the first 10-15 minutes, until deciding he was done with dinner and wanted outta there. At that point, our salad had just arrived and I was trying to enjoy my Venetian Sunset (yummy girlie drink) without gulping and getting knackered as I’m a complete lightweight. I asked Hubby if he wanted me to take Peanut outside, he said no and pulled Peanut out of the high chair and we continued trying to eat. The loud crying continued and I was past my point of comfort. I should’ve just taken Peanut outside.

A woman a couple tables over stands up and yells something to the effect of “Are you having a good time because we aren’t!” over the table next to us. Hubby yells something to the effect of “Do we look like we are?” back and tells me that there’s no way we’re leaving now. I was pissed, so I agreed, although I would rather have slunk out of there, screaming toddler in tow. He finally gets our waitress and asks her to box our food when it’s ready. She seems relieved. We wait, since the food is supposedly just about to come out of the kitchen. I can’t take it anymore and take Peanut outside. We wait outside a good 10 minutes (so much for food coming off the line). Shortly before Hubby comes out, the asshole family leaves. At first I have no idea who they are because I never saw the lady who yelled. As she’s walking to her car, she bitchily yells over her shoulder how we ruined their dinner.

The only reply I could think of was "Kiss my ass", which seemed too low-brow even for me, so I simply turned my back on her.

OK. I get it. I got it when they first yelled at us. Honestly, we should’ve left long before that. But it’s still no excuse to be rude assholes. If they had politely come over to the table or sent a manager to us and asked us to have consideration for the other patrons and leave, we would have. If she was so pissed off about her ruined dinner, she could’ve had the balls to speak directly to me, not pull the passive-aggressive walking away while yelling b.s.

The waitress was a gem, too. In case she’s wondering why she only got a $6 tip after putting up with us and our screaming brat, this is why: When a nearby table complained that they didn’t get their appetizer, she said it was because the crying baby had her so distracted so much. Within Hubby’s earshot.

I only got to drink a third of my Venetian Sunset. I so needed that drink.

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