Georgia and I went out for Mexican food a while back. The restaurant we chose is a local favorite and for good reason. The food was delectable, the service was excellent, and the rocks margarita we split was perfect. Our waiter was a hoot. When he asked us if we wanted separate checks, Georgia and I agreed separate tabs were fine, but we had a moment of bickering over who would pay for the margarita. Our waiter listened to each of us telling him to put the drink on our ticket, then laughed and said, “I am afraid.” Georgia asked, “Did you say you’re afraid? Afraid of us?” He nodded. She gave a delighted grin and said, “I like that! No one’s ever been afraid of me before.”
We enjoyed the dinner conversation as much as the dinner, and as we always do, we laughed a lot. We weren’t screaming with laughter, but neither were we giggling silently into our napkins. We did not disturb other diners, but Georgia told me some hilarious stories and there were a few times when we quite literally laughed until we cried. I don’t know when I have laughed so hard.
Just after Georgia told a particularly entertaining anecdote, we noticed the couple at the next table looking at us. Intently. Like, staring. The man saw us noticing their stares, caught my eye and asked, quite seriously, “Are you okay to drive home?”
I looked at Georgia, who looked at me. Then we both looked at the man, with “Huh?” all over our faces. He said, “I have noticed you are laughing a LOT, and you drank that big margarita. Are you okay to drive?”
After a moment of shock, Georgia and I both started stammering that we had split the margarita so I had not drunk much alcohol at all; plus, we went on, we had eaten tortillas and chips and salsa in addition to our meals, and in fact I was stone sober. He appeared unconvinced. We tag-teamed additional information – we always laugh like that when we’re together, and Georgia was telling hilarious stories, and –and – and of course I can drive home safely! I was completely flustered and we were both flummoxed. Who was this guy, and why in the world would he think I had drunk too much to drive?
At the end of our rambling about my absolute sobriety, the man said to Georgia, “Well, I guess I’ll take your word for it since you are a doctor.”
His companion looked questioningly at him. He said, “She’s wearing scrubs.”
Georgia explained she worked in a dentist’s office, and the conversation went haywire from there. The man asked if anyone had ever come to the dental office with teeth so dirty that the hygienist couldn’t clean them in one appointment, and what was the most disgusting thing Georgia had ever seen in the office, and a variety of other repellant questions. Georgia answered politely and in very general terms, while I silently contemplated how much I wanted to brush my teeth immediately.
Finally, the odious side of dentistry was left behind and we all discussed Mexican food and New Mexican food and Tex-Mex food until the man and his companion at long last departed – after warning me quite loudly that cops often drive by the restaurant looking to catch drunk drivers.
When they were out the door, Georgia turned to me and said, “I thought they were going to move over and sit at our table.”
We still giggle over the man who told me I was drunk. We have decided that surely he never seriously thought I’d had too much to drink, and that, in fact, he and his companion were simply jealous of how much we were enjoying our evening out. We prefer to believe the man started the whole thing about the margarita as a way to join our conversation because he wanted to have as much fun as we were having. Who knew we were so enviable? LOL!
(The photo of Cashmire is just because she's so stinkin' cute.)
(The photo of Cashmire is just because she's so stinkin' cute.)
