Saturday night, 8 p.m. My section has as many children in it as it does adults and it has since we opened. What ever happened to date night? A window into what I'm dealing with:
Upon approaching table 47 to take their drink order:
"I'll have a Nantucket Mule," says the khaki-clad Father figure. "She'll have a sangria," he gestures to his wife, "and they'll have...uh...do you have milk?"
"CHOCOLATE milk?" his son blurts out before I can answer. He and his sister stare up at me expectantly, as though there are only chocolate cows where they come from and the thought of a night without chocolate milk with dinner is just irritating.
"No, we don't," I answer. "I mean, we have this spicy chocolate sauce that we use on the churros, which I could add to some cold milk. But its pretty spicy..." I warn. Table 52 demanded to have all spicy things obviated from their kids' food; I assume 47 will feel the same.
"No, that's okay..." the father says.
"I WANT to TRY IT!" the little boy screams.
Well, now we know who's in charge.
When I deliver their drink, the Dad asks, "Do you have anything KID-friendly?"
I direct him to the kobe beef burgers. "They're perfect for little kids."
At table 48:
Taking a drink order is difficult since the little five year old asshole won't stop screaming and hitting his mother as she navigates the menu. They order all of their meats cooked well done and flag me down to hold me to task when their burgers take while.
"Um...do you know where the kobe burgers are? It's taking a long time," the mom says. She's a total MILF and she and her guest are both dressed to the nines. Their "child" (I suspect he may be some obnoxious terrorist robot in the guise of a five year old boy) is swatting at her face and hair with his filthy, sauce covered fingers. Their outfits will be ruined by the end of dinner.
"I'll check on them for you. It usually takes a little while longer to cook the meat well done," I say.
"Thanks. It's just that he's getting tired..." she says, gesturing to her child. Her sense of urgency is palpable.
The burgers arrive not a minute too soon. And within minutes the MILF is flagging me over.
"He needs ketchup," she says.
Yes, of course, the ultimate garnish.
Kobe beef is the new baby food which should DEFINITELY try with ketchup, bedtime is the new last call, and Toro is the new romper room on Saturday night.