My Family's Dinner Etiquette

I am going to preface this entry with a little bit of character background concerning Red. Red plays baseball for a major league team, although he's not in the majors (just AAA), he would like to inform everyone he encounters that he-plays baseball. If you didn't already know it, he plays baseball. And in case everyone else on the face of the Earth doesn't know it-he plays baseball. The guard at my parents gate to their neighborhood 2.5 hrs from our home, who has met Red maybe a collective 4 times- knows he plays baseball. So yea, he plays baseball. Just so you're aware that he, plays baseball. Get it? Good.

Have you ever had food thrown at you from another guest seated in the restaurant? We have. There is a reason I dread family outings to dine. There is a reason I dread family outings period. They find every loophole possible to score something for free or a discount. So naturally the only way to score such a bargain is to, drumroll please, complain. Nothing is EVER good enough.

Take P.F. Chang's white rice for example, everyone else in the restaurant's white rice is just fine. The table next to us, no problem. G's rice, perfect. Everyone except Red. His white rice is a tad on the sticky side. Well, it might as well be the worst rice on the face of the planet! After all, what do the Chinese know about cooking rice?...Exactly. So of course, as soon as he instigates any minor fault, Tio and Abuela jump right on the Complain Train. And it's not as if they call the server over and discreetly ask for a different serving or maybe an exchange for fried rice. Oh no! That would be the , GASP!, courteous thing to do.

"Do you not know anything about this rice?!" Red demands of the server. " I want to speak to your manager right now!" As we all wait for the manager to arrive, the Complain Train keeps chugging away throwing insults regarding the incompetence of the restaurant/server/cooks amongst themselves. At this point the volume of their voices has reached the Louder volume (ref. last blog's volume chart), and everyone else in our party sinks down a little bit lower into our seats, trying our hardest to somehow melt into our surroundings. The people at other tables are beginning to stare and shake their heads in disapproval at my family's obscene behavior.

"I sincerely apologize if there has been an inconvenience, what can I do for you?" The manager dutifully inquires.

Here's the egomaniac comment!: "You know what? I play baseball for the _________ and I've traveled everywhere, and when I was in L.A. 's P.F. Chang's, I never encountered this problem!"

"Yea, he's never had this problem before, and I'm really disappointed that we're having this situation." Pipes up Tio. Having had no experience at a P.F. Chang's let alone anything Los Angeles.

"Ju know," begins Abuela, "My son play basebol, an he neber has dis proglem before. I reely can't belief that dis is hapen to us right now." Of course the manager profusely apologizes and arranges to have our bill not only discounted, but at the insistence of the Egomaniac, bring us a *free* dessert.

After the meal has ended and the bill has been dropped off. Red assures the manager that he is doubtful that we will return (the man was probably relieved). They pay the remainder of the bill, and before we make our exit the table full of ladies next to ours throws bread at our table. Yes, they threw food. Granted they had been sharing some cocktails, but who are we kidding here, I'd probably throw food if another guest was killing my buzz too. Especially because as I'm sure many of you know, liquor isn't cheap. If only I could've joined them...