A rogue piece of rice from the paella I was wrapping up for Table 48 somehow found it's way all the way down my shirt.
Table 51 suggested that I lick their plates clean for them when I asked if they were ready for me to clear. "We wouldn't blame you if you did -- everything was delicious," they assured me. (My response: Thanks...I think I'm all set.)
And table 52 order two rounds of single malt scotch...as shots? Because I guess THATs what the kids are up to these days...
Just the tip of the iceberg on my night. How 'bout yourself?