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November 23, 2005
The Thinking Fool and his Dad Go to Vegas: Chapter IV, Bypassing Julius
When you go to a restaurant with my dad, you never really know what to expect. There was the time many years ago (I was still in the single digit years) when a waitress brought bread to the table, only to realize that she had forgotten to bring plates. What tipped her off to the fact that no plates were on the table? My father took some butter and spread it on the table as though the table were a giant butter plate. Needless to say, after the waitress witnessed this event, plates were on our table within seconds. Then there was the time that my family went to a fairly nice restaurant and was quite disappointed in the meal. When the waiter came to clear the table, he asked my dad if he could put his nearly-untouched chicken in a doggie bag. My dad's response? “No, thanks. The dogs wouldn’t eat this.”
After gambling for a few hours on Saturday morning/early afternoon, my dad and I decided to grab a bite at the Grand Lux Cafe. The Grand Lux Cafe should call itself, “The Cheesecake Factory: The Sequel.” After all, it's basically the same restaurant and the Cheesecake Factory owns it! Like most sequels, Grand Lux is not nearly as good as the original. Fortunately, unlike most sequels (see, e.g. Spiderman 2), the Grand Lux Cafe isn’t horrible. (Did you see Spiderman 2? One word comes to mind when I think about that film. “Horrid.”)
Julius the Waiter: Can I get you guys something to drink?
Thinking Fool: I would like a Virgin Pina Colada, please.
Julius the Waiter: Okay.
Thinking Fool: And can you make sure they don’t put any alcohol in it. I’ve been dry for twenty-two days and it’s been really hard, but I’m doing everything I can to stay clean.
Julius the Waiter: No problem, buddy.
I rarely pull out the “I’m a recovering alcoholic” trick. For one thing, it’s simply not true. A four-year old couldn’t get drunk off the aggregate amount of alcohol I’ve consumed in my life. However, sometimes you just get a sense about particular waiters or waitresses and want to give them extra incentive not to make your drink alcoholic. That’s when the “I’m a recovering alcoholic” line comes in handy. If you saw Julius, you would understand why I used the line. I can’t really explain it, but good old Julius definitely had that “I was incompetent the day I left my mother’s womb and I will be incompetent the day they put me in the ground” aura about him.
Several minutes later, my Virgin Pina Colada arrived at the table. To say it tasted “bad” would be akin to saying, “Ted Bundy didn’t treat women well.” In other words, the drink was atrocious. I’m well aware that many alcoholic drinks taste like crap without the alcohol. However, Pina Coladas do not fall into this group. To the contrary, Virgin Pina Coladas are usually quite tasty. Unfortunately, the one I sipped on that afternoon tasted like its key ingredient came right out of a horse’s body.
When Julius returned to our table, Papa Fool informed him that my Virgin Pina Colada tasted like crap, and I added, “I think they put rum in here, and Julius, I just can’t have any rum.” Julius swore that he watched the bartender mix the drink, but offered to bring me something else instead. I went with the strawberry smoothie.
After nearly five minutes passed, my strawberry smoothie had still not found its way to the table.
Papa Fool: I wonder what the hell’s taking so long with your smoothie.
Thinking Fool: Oh, it’s been made.
Papa Fool: What? How do you know that?
Thinking Fool: Because I’ve been staring at it for the last two minutes. It’s sitting on top of the counter at the bar.
Papa Fool turned around and scanned the bar area for my smoothie. It didn’t take long for his eyes to see my drink.
Papa Fool: If he doesn’t bring it within two minutes, I’m going to go get it.
Thinking Fool: That’s not necessary. He’ll bring it eventually.
Papa Fool: Start the timer.
After three minutes elapsed, Papa Fool told me that he was going to go get the drink. I kept trying to stall him, but once his mind was made up, his mind was made up! Just to give you a mental image, in order to get to the bar, my dad had to walk about fifteen feet from our table, make a 90 degree right turn, and continue another fifteen to twenty feet. In other words, he didn't have to walk a mile, but he also couldn't stand stationary.
When he reached the bar, my dad grabbed the drink, only to be questioned by the bartender.
Papa Fool: Don’t worry, it’s supposed to be at my table. It’s a strawberry smoothie, right?
Bartender: Oh, your waiter must be Julius.
Starting to get the sense that Julius has never been the restaurant’s employee of the month?
Apparently Julius watched my dad grab the drink and tried to intervene immediately.
Julius the Waiter: I’ll get that for you, sir!
Papa Fool: Oh, it’s okay. I’ve got it now. We just wanted to make sure we got to drink it.
I was unable to make eye contact with Julius for the duration of the visit. For some reason, I have a feeling that this wasn’t the first time a person wanted to bypass Julius in order to get his or her order faster. I just have a hunch that this was the first time someone actually did bypass Julius to get an order faster.
Missed Chapters I, II, and III of the Vegas experience? Read about them by clicking here, here, and here!
