Legume Launch

I think that a little humor is called for around these parts and interestingly enough, the material for that landed in my lap last night. Literally.

It should have been so simple, peaceful. The night air was cool, groups of people sitting at the restaurant patio tables happily chatting away, and the table with the little boy playing with his truck as the adults conversed. Idyllic evening. We sat at our table, sipping our margaritas and having our own conversation.

Behind me, I heard a woman complain to her partner that their waiter had at least five other tables and was not paying enough attention to them, these two women. Then my favorite waiter at this particular restaurant came to their table with their check and this woman let him have it. About the service, about their drinks, about how she didn't appreciate having to wait, and who knows, probably about global warming as well.

Favorite waiter Ray then turned to our table to check on us. I looked at him, patted him on his chest, and told him it was okay, that we loved him anyway.

That should have been that.

But it wasn't.

Irate Woman number 2 (the partner of the complainer) stood up and yelled to me to stop talking about her behind her back. Well, that's the gist of the message, in between the peppering of expletives. I told her that I was not talking about her. At which point Irate Woman number 1 stood up and told me to stop talking to her girlfriend. I believe she said I had no right to talk to her girlfriend.

(If ever there were a can't-win trap to enter.) I believe I laughed.

Do you think that we were stunned? Absolutely. Who were these women and how did I suddenly find myself being called a bitch and, more importantly in my world, being told about my rights?

I'm not a fighter and even though I usually walk away from heated situations, I can be a smart ass and I can earn that name she was tossing my way. Last night I felt the need to defend myself and my rights. So I did.

Sue me.

No harm done, just an exchange of really mature strings of words like "she talked to me first" as they left.

And then... And then... as they walked to their car, I smiled, waved, and said "Have a good night."

And that's when it hit me. Epiphany. Some people are a little closer to the edge than I think, and sometimes a smile will push them right off that edge. I figured that out when before you could even think to say "Duck!", she got her fingers around the beans and guacamole in the cozy corner of her To-Go box and hurled the handful of muck at us. And suddenly the entire patio was oh-my-goshing and laughing because, honestly, having a stranger throw beans on you after calling you a bitch after you told a waiter that you appreciate him is, well, funny. In a way that is both odd and ha-ha.

My friend's back was covered in beans. My arm and my shirt were splattered. And my hair. Beans and guacamole in my hair. My friend's hair too. We took it in stride. A woman wiped off my friend's back while I went to the restroom to wash off my arm. The table next to us joined us and shared a beer and the general wonder of the night's events. We laughed some more.

Favorite waiter Ray was beside himself. Me too. But with laughter. I don't care if I had beans and guacamole in my hair and my friend's shirt was splattered, it felt good to laugh like that. To laugh until my eyes watered. It felt damn good.

Sometimes - and you need to trust me on this one - when the world gets a little too serious, I suggest a food fight. Or, at least a few beans in your hair. Works wonders on the funny bone.