After going to the movies on Tuesday night (Ghost Town, for the record – it was pretty good, there are a dozen Ghosts With Unfinished Business movies out there, but it was a nice spin on the concept; and there’s every chance I’d turn straight for Kristen Wiig); Mr. Sparkle and I got some dinner at a nearby café.
During the meal, a combination of condensation and a gentle sloping of the table meant that my water glass kept slowly sliding from the middle of the table to the outer corner. Of its own accord. It was amusing at first, taking turns pretending we had amazing powers of telekinesis (and for future reference? This can keep two seemingly well-rounded and mature adults entertained for an inordinately long time). But eventually I forgot about it…
…And it hit the floor. Loudly. And obviously. And right as I was in the middle of a story that involved some kind of hand movement (it could have been any story at all – I gesticulate wildly when I talk. It is a very handy habit – on the off chance I am saying something of little or no consequence, no one can tell, because they’re so distracted by calisthenics).
I DID NOT TOUCH THE GLASS. But all the other patrons could see was me Kermit-flailing; followed by a thunk, a splash, and a flying lemon slice.
Worst of all, it kind of went unacknowledged for about five minutes. No staff came over; so while I quickly picked up the glass (and wedged it between the salt shaker and the cocktail menu), the small flood of mineral water and ice stayed on the floor, expanding slowly. And I have no idea where the lemon slice went.
Hopefully into someone else’s Pad Thai, because mine was a tad bland.
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You should have thrown some tomato sauce on your hands and faked a massive cut – think of the componsation!! You could have OWNED the restaurant!