I was out with a group of people, the atmosphere seemed more like it was a group of people that I either worked with or was acquainted with through work, rather than a bunch of friends. We were at a restaurant, which to me looked like the Capital Grille on the Country Club Plaza in Kansas City. Anyway, we were seated at a table that was near the bar. We were sitting around talking and drinking. I can’t remember what we were talking about, I was drinking margaritas, several people were drinking wine, and others had mixed drinks. The guy that was across the table from me was drinking Jack and coke. We had been there several hours, without seeing a waitress. After all that drinking, I had to go to the bathroom. I got up, stopping at the guy across the table, telling him that if the waitress ever showed up to order me the spaghetti with garlic and butter. Then I followed a maze to get to the bathroom — down the hall, up the stairs, down another hall. I get to the bathroom, and there are maybe 5 stalls. Each stall was as long as a lane in a bowling alley, and half as wide. I go in one, close the door, and walk down the lane to the toilet. Along the way there are doors into the other stalls, in case you wanted to visit your neighbors I guess. I get to the toilet, sit down, and discover that the door didn’t latch and was now standing open. To make matters worse, the bathroom was not really a room, just the stalls in the middle of the restaurant…so, with the door open, I had diners staring at me while I peed. I finish, trek back to the stall door, and make my way back to my table. I get there, only to find everyone gone, but a plate of spaghetti at my place. I know I hadn’t been gone that long. The bartender said that everyone left shortly after I went to the bathroom, but one gentleman stopped and ordered a plate of spaghetti for me before they left. I didn’t want to sit at this table alone, so I took my plate and went to sit at the bar. I asked for a take-out box for my spaghetti, but I kept the garlic bread to munch on. At the bar, a guy offered to buy me a drink but I refused. I wouldn’t look up either. The guy kept insisting, so I finally looked up to refuse. I was surprised to see the guy who had been sitting across from me at the table. I asked him why everyone left, and he said they got tired of waiting for a waitress. Then I asked him why he ordered my dinner. He said that he couldn’t bear the thought of me coming back to the table and finding everyone gone, and he thought if I had dinner waiting, it’d make things better. So I asked why he left. He said, well, it was his car, so he felt like he had to go. Why did he come back, I asked. He knew I’d need a ride, so he came back to get me. As we were walking out of the restaurant going to his car, people kept coming up to him. I finally realized that the guy was Simon Cowell.
Writing In The Sand
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