One thing that I like about working with the public is the chance to observe people in very intimate settings. People are rarely guarded or preoccupied when they are sitting down for a nice dinner. Our restaurant has a disarming sweetness too, a red patio sheltered under a huge grapevine heavy with fruit and curling tendrils, white table cloths, a small fountain in the corner. In this capacity I can interact while remaining an unknown quantity which is where I feel most comfortable, while the customers generally betray tendencies, motivations, convictions, character, disposition, covetings, regrets... the story under the story. The story frame with out the drywall and plumbing. Usually the details are less interesting. Anyone can make these observations if they care enough to stop and look, and if they are not mutually creating static (ie detached enough to obtain a wee modicum of objectivity).
Then other times the details run away with the story. Last night a traveling business man came in with a woman I am 281% sure was an escort. She was a greatlengths girl...a plucking, tanning, puking, lipliner wearin', itsafulltimejob beauty queen...
(There isnt necessarily anything wrong with primping, I *heart* primping.)
She wore a tight pink jumbsuit unzipped to her sternum and spindly leather heels, the kind that barely exist...just a pink strap and a kickstand that keep her foot arched at a 65 degree angle. He was just a business man, mid-40s. I brought them menus, water, asked if they were ready to order. Her eyes scanned the price list. I'LL HAVE THE *pause* pointed to where it read $19.00 and dragged her finger across the page PANANG SEAFOOD CURRY, AND A GLASS OF *pause* dragged her finger right to left again THE CABERNET-MERLOT PLEASE. He ordered from the left side of the page, and changed the glass of wine to a bottle. (aside: I love presenting and opening wine at the table. It is totally pompous and gives me time to stand tableside and eavesdrop) He spent the entire dinner looking bored and making quasi-sarcastic comments that she didn't pick up on. He paid for dinner with an airline miles business card. I felt a little sorry for him, and got the impression that he was a half way intelligent person who might be interesting to talk with. It was a fascinating interchange.
In other news, Moxie has decided that biting is a good way to communicate his needs. Watch for my new look of the 2004 summer season, water gun and a thigh holster!
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