Sunday, May 15, 2016

Dear Racist Old Man at the Chinese Restaurant

When I take my lady out, I go all out.  That's why, on our usual Tuesday date I took her to the nice Chinese place, not the one that gets all of the health code violations.  We settled into our booth, perused the selections, and caught up on each other's day.  Shortly after we ordered, but before I could start daring her to eat a spoonful of hot mustard, we both keyed in on a conversation that was occurring at the booth behind her. 

It should be noted that, at this fine dining establishment, there is only one non-Asian server.  She wasn't working this day, so one of the ladies with a heavier accent was taking the order.  Her name tag informed us that she had the unwieldy Mandarin name of "Jessy".  There was a father, mother, child, and grandfather trying to order, at least I think they were there.  There was so much camouflage clothing I was only able to make out shapes when they moved.  The darling little boy of about ten spent that entire meal playing a game on a tablet, giving only monosyllabic answers when he was addressed.  Mom and dad were much too enthralled with Grampy's shenanigans to care that their child specifically asked to have fried rice substituted for any vegetables that might come with the meal, of course. 

"I don't know what to order.  None of this makes sense" he grumbled at the menu.    "What's lo mein?"

Jessy, who is a fine server, patiently started to explain, "Those are thick noodles cooked.."

"If I wanted noodles, I'd get Italian" old granpappy interjected.  "Tell you what.  If you was dating an American guy, what would you get him to eat?"

Jessy stared somewhat blankly, trying to formulate a response to this that didn't involve a claw hammer.

"You understand what I'm saying?  If you had an American husband, what kind of food in here would you get him to eat?"  Clearly, we must all be foreigners eating this inedible Chinese food.  I give her credit for not trying to shove a hamburger into his idiot maw.  The mother at the table had a knee slapping laugh. "Oh Dad, don't say things like that.  Just get sweet and sour chicken."

"I want some damn barbeque chicken.  Just order me something", old Paps chortled and then proceeded to blow his nose on the nice linen napkin at his place. 

We refused to listen after that.  My lovely girlfriend left Jessy a forty percent tip for not setting that family ablaze, or more realistically breaking into tears at the ignorant and cruel things the family of redneck morons guffawed at her.  The good news is, from the lack of any water or veggies at the table, the whole family will probably be dead from obesity or scurvy before two long.