(Subtitle: How to Remove a Drunk from Your Table)
Despite the heat, I mucked out Saturday night to meet my "buds" at our favorite coffee shop. 8 p.m., and it was sweltering, but they are worth it. We sat around sweating in plastic chairs, and then decided to cross the street to The Esquire, where we could sweat in plastic chairs AND grab a burger.
While we were bantering and waiting for our food, a man inside tapped on the window. He pointed to each of us, and cheered when we waved. We imagined a drunken monetary wager: "I'll bet I can get each of those people to wave at me" Wave, wave, hi, you're fun.
A few minutes later, a tick-ticking on the window alerted us to the fact that he was throwing peanuts at us. Automatons, we turned to find him mooning us. We're a fun crowd, we laughed heartily.
The manager of The Esquire strolled out a few minutes later, and we tattled: "we saw his butt." Not like it was a bad thing, but still. Tattly.
A few minutes later, we heard further window hub-bub, and looked up to see our drunken friend inside, covering the window with mustard. We also saw the manager standing directly behind him.
Ruh-Roh Raggy. Dat boyz' comin' out 'cheah 'nex.
He did. He and his party began to settle at the table next to ours. Our peaceful little table.
What to do? "What can one say," I thought, "to be rid of a drunk?"
Drunk boy sat near me, and Momo immediately motioned me over: "Lori, move over. Sit here. Get over here."
I did as Momo instructed.
Still. We needed to be rid of this guy. What would chase him away?
"What's your name, dude?" I asked him.
"Jim" I am told, by he and his friends.
"Jim."... I asked him, "Jim. I need to ask you something, Jim."
Jim was attentive.
"JIM," I said.
"HAVE YOU ACCEPTED THE LORD JESUS CHRIST AS YOUR PERSONAL SAVIOR?"*
It would have been a perfect moment to slap him in the forehead, but I couldn't reach him, after Momo moved me.
Score! Jim The Drunk was completely taken aback, and sat speechless long enough for his friends and mine to fall into uproarious laughter.
Jim's friends all high-5'd me, and told me I was the funniest woman they'd ever met. What's not fun about THAT?
Well, here's what Jim had to say about it, as he moved on to his next station:
I'm sure the next establishment appreciated him more than we did.
Moral of the Story: To get rid of a Drunk, Witness to Him.
Thank 'yuh; thankyuhveramuch.
*Note to Amishlaw: I told you. I'm banking on His sense of humor.