pt.II, Girls Gone Wild!!

For some reason or another, the manager said; "You can't smoke, but I'll turn these overhead fans on for you."

ummm. thanks? But you see, fans do not alleviate my nicotine fits. I know, I know, that's what you're supposed to do, turn on a fan instead of lighting a cigarette, no, no no no, it just doesn't work.

"Can we smoke if we shut the doors?" I ask.

no.

the three lovely girls go outside to smoke. The waitress comes in, and introduces herself. Erin asks her for ashtrays. "Of course." the waitress replies, and we get our ashtrays. She brings them back, but we all know we're not allowed to smoke. the waitress doesn't know, but we know, damnit. After a moment or two of debate as to whether or not we should actually smoke, I say "fuck it" and light up a cigarette. It all falls into place then.

"JOHN!" comes out over the PA system, then silence.

The food sucked at IHOP, when we actually got it. I was disappointed as I had skipped breakfast and was now at lunch time, all in anticipation of a good, american breakfast ... french toast & sausage. And I had money to spend, too. Which makes it all that more better [especially after one's been broke for two weeks].

But the food was bad. At least, mine was.

Previous to food suckage, there were at least two more names randomly blurted out over the speakers, and then one which angerily directed someone to "the gallery". that's us. that dude's gonna bust us for smokin. fuck it, I'll smoke anyways. the ... manager, comes in, and sternly says;

"This is non-smoking."

"The waitress gave us ashtrays" I replied, undermining his authority. Someone stated that she, the waitress, was going to get in trouble. No she won't. I knew she wouldn't. It's not her fault. We manipulated her. She came in, innocently, and we dug our sick talons into her flesh, and made her do our bidding. She was our dark-servant. If there ever was an example of evil incarnate, it would be this room, our room, at IHOP. No wonder the nuns left as we entered. They could smell the fire and brimstone. Nuns are sensitive to those kinds of things. Jesus, they were probably on their way to get a bishop or something to sic on us. Any moment now, a team of men in robes and pointy-pope-hats were going to burst into the room and take us out with SWAT team precision. First the holy flash-bangs which stuns all our senses, then there would be the dazed sight of 7 popes charging into the room, rifles aimed at all of us, loaded with bullets made by God himself. We would have to surrender to the catholic church. There would be no way around it. We were all screwed.

But that didn't happen. the ... manager angerily left after exclaiming; "she did!?".

yeah, she did. If your employees don't know which areas are smoking or not, that's your fault buddy. I managed a bar/restaurant for almost 2 years in old city. This IHOP is a fucking macdonalds compared to what I worked with. Do your job right pally. You should of let us smoke to begin with because we're a god-damn table of 20 in our own special room. Customer satisfaction, remember. The more pleasant our experience, the more likely we'll come back, and the more likely we'll tip nicely. I know it's shitty that your waitress probably have to split all their tips throughout the night evenly, though.

So I put my smoke out, and he comes back in a second later saying we can all smoke. "Light it back up, buddy." he says to me. So I do. Corporate fucker. Should of just let us smoke to begin with.

30 cups of coffee, 20 cigarettes and a disappointing meal later, Blair is opening presents. We're all signing this huge fucking card for her, which frightened me [see previous entry]. I read aloud the back of an old, really bad, Charles Bronson flick about him exacting revenge on a psychiatrist. And ... haziness.

the three lovely girls [the only reason I have to use this group title is because I can't remember their names. See previous entry on name forgetting and embarassment] left early, though we left shortly after them. We all threw into the check, and the waitress wound up with probably one of the best tips she's ever seen there. Around a 40-45% tip.

We left, and there was much playing with the hulahoops outside. The plan was to go to the mall.

holy fuck, a mall? I thought. I haven't been to a mall in 3, maybe 4 years. Strange places, I tell you.

Erin and I hop into Matt's car. Matt is an awesome guy, and despite him thinking I would never ride in car with him again, I actually would. I've been in scary car rides, one of them actually life threatening. Riding in an armored personel carrier isn't exactly uhh, comfortable, either [though driving one is much better]. So Matt get's two thumbs up in my book.

So does Bill, for giving erin shit all day.

We arrive at the mall parking lot, and sail around for a minute or two before parking. Hopping out, I look around.

jesus, look at 'em. Mall-folk.

As we approach, we meet back up with the rest. I notice the kahunaville, which had particular significance to me. I made a trip from the art museum to deliver these large, expensive framed prints to the Kahunaville offices in Delaware.

yay.

where was I? oh, yes...

we enter the mall, and erin and I go into the kahunaville arcade, looking for Matt and bill, who we find at the bar. I order a jack and coke. Matt drops his drink. I gulp down some of the jack and coke, then leave the rest. Erin and I take off to examine the mall. Erin comments that it's odd that we're walking together through a mall. odd indeed. A quick trip through the toy store, and those cool-ass little sumo guys who blurt out angry japanese when you push a kanji on their back, and we were back on our way to meet up with the group, which had splintered into their own adventures. Naturally, with the group reforming, it seemed a cigarette would be in order. So we migrated outside to smoke, then to return, and decide that the mall was whack. So we all left. Blair, Erin, Tony & I hopped into Blair's car, and dropped Tony off at his car.

Kindly, Blair drove me back into the city. She put on Jedi Mind Tricks, which I liked, and Louie Logic with I also liked, a lot. I didn't like the spooks, too much, sorry. But that's ok, cause my rock mix for Erin didn't get much critical acclaim either.

boo on you. Le Tigre kicks ass.

A thank you. A hand shake, a goodbye, a happy birthday, and I was off, dropped back into the pond called center city.