:: Life on Planet Dan-E ::

:: Sunday, February 03, 2008 ::

:: Server Stories: Girls and Whiskey ::

It was a pretty slow Wednesday night. I got to work at five and I didn't get my first table until almost six-thirty. It was a four-top of some young-looking kids that were in town with daddy's credit card. As they walk in I notice the petite, sandy-blonde chick wearing a low-cut dress showing off her nice set of personalities. My buddy Chuck and the new guy walk over next to me and admire the talent as she takes her seat. I walk up to the table ask them for their drink order first and everyone gets soda or iced tea except for the sandy blonde, who orders Jack Daniels on the rocks.

I raise my eyebrows and I look at her for a moment before I ask for her I.D. She digs it out of her purse and hands it to me. She turned 21 three months ago. Girls her age who try too hard to be precocious usually stick of Cosmopolitans or some vodka mix (and it's always either Grey Goose, Kettle One, or Belvedere). But Jack on the rocks...

Wow. Don't get me wrong. I like Jack Daniels. On the rocks or with Coke, it's a great whiskey. I'm an avowed bourbon drinker that also loves s good scotch and Irish Whisky(I'm not a fan of Canadian Whiskeys; Crown Royal is okay but everything else tastes like swill) but I'm 33 and I possess an iron palate. (The Gay Wingman once dared me into doing a Wild Turkey shot and I downed with no problem, whereas he went into convulsions, despite the fact that he's been drinking longer and harder than I ever had). Jack Daniels is similar to bourbon except it's made in Tennessee and has been filtered through sugar maple charcoal (imagine a gigantic Britta filter; it's called the Lincoln County Process), which imparts and a smoky sweetness you won't find in, say, Woodford Reserve. Regardless, drinking this stuff without a mixer takes either a strong tongue or years of drinking to develop a tolerance (in my case, both).

I hand her driver's license back, smile and say "nice pull." She smiles back at me and says quietly, "I've been doing this for a while." It's then I noticed that she owns not only a killer smile, but also a beautiful pair of hazel eyes that could potentially make powerful men starts wars to win her favor. I'm about to flirt with her except the guy sitting next to her suddenly slides right next her, puts his hand on her thigh, and says to me with a slightly raised voice, "can we start with some calamari?"

I pull myself out her eyes and walk over to the computer, being grateful that I’m wearing an apron. My buddy Chuck and the new guy are still checking out Hazel Eyes. After I run the drinks, I walk up to them and joke, "I think we got 'Miss Girls Gone Wild 2008' at my table." Chuck thinks it's funny while new guy just shakes his head and says, "Damn. She's fucking hot dawg. She show you her tits or something?"

"Nah. I mean, she's hot, but she's drinking Jack on the rocks."

"Aw damn."

"And... she turned 21 in November."

"For real?"

"Yeah."

"Like, last year?"

"Yeah."

"Aw, damn dawg. That's hot, That's fucking hot." (He says "dawg" a lot. And he's Brazilian.)

I chuckle. He's a good guy. He's only 28 but he's been married for four years already. He says he never has and never will cheat on his wife and I believe him since he'd tell me if he did, but it's clear he married too young and he still wants to sow his wild oats. (Then again, his wife is a beautiful English lass with blonde hair and a round ass and if anything like that was in love with me, I'd probably want to lock that down too.)

The calamari is done. He drops it off at the table and walks past me, shaking his head and says "damn." I smile. I sorta know how he feels. Assuming she was single, he can't have her because he's married. I can't have her because... well... I have my own neurosis I need to work through.

Gay Wingman walks up and he wonders what the three of us are talking about. Chuck points out Hazel Eyes and even the gay guy is like "wow, she is hot." He nudges me and says "you need to go talk to her right now."

"Dude, she's with her boyfriend."

"Oh honey, he's a dumb jock that still wears his cap backwards. You're way smarter than that meathead is and, oh my gawd, his shoes are just awful."

He's sober. It's not unusual for him to have a drink or three before a shift but he's sober right now. I just look at him and nod. "I'm serious. Even if you don't get her number, you need to go make an impression and show her she can do better than that jock."

"Dude, shut up."

"You're fabulous honey. You need to get that out there more. We need to get you out there more. And she also likes that brown liquor."

I smile. I don't have a response to that but other than the "fabulous" part, he might be right. Alcoholic tendencies and loquacious ramblings aside, he just might have a point.

They finish their dinner and pay. They leave while I'm standing near the entrance talking to the host. When they walk by, the boyfriend ignores me but Hazel rubs my arm as she walks past and says good night. I smile back and say "I'll see you again soon." I grab the check. The boyfriend paid and left a crappy tip.

I don't care. I'm in a good mood for the rest of evening.

Labels: big ass, boobs, girls, server stories, the gay wingman, waiting, whiskey, whoa

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 12:56 AM [+] :: | 0 comments
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