Seeing how many trays I have held over the years, it’s amazing that I have not spilled more often than I have. I am knocking on wood right now, because I do not want to jinx myself and then the next time I go to work end up dropping a hummus platter into the lap of someone. Last night though I had a couple of minor spills. One was my fault but the other was absolutely unequivocally not my fault in the slightest tiniest teeniest bit.
The club was crowded as hell last night. Like people crammed in tighter than the 6 train at rush hour. Tighter than sardines in a can. Tighter than Joan River’s face. (Okay maybe not that tight…). It takes a serious case of balance and gymnastics to get to the tables in the dark while a show is happening all the while carrying a tray of martinis. There is some Mary Lou Retton shit going on up in there. I went over to Table 32 and began to place the Cosmopearitan (yummy, by the way) in front of the single lady. It was filled to the brim and a tiny bit of the nectar dripped over the edge of the glass spilling onto her hand and pants leg. It may have been about a teaspoon. The lady acted like I had just dumped a tsunami in her lap. I whispered “I’m sorry” to her and put the drink down. She grabbed a bev nap from the table and started wiping her whole entire body with it. She seemed to think that the whole drink had spilled on her. Frantically, she sopped up vodka and pear liqueur that wasn’t even there. “Are you alright?” I asked. She glared at me seething with inner rage and hissed, “I’m wet!” The way she said it was as if she meant to say “I was just stabbed in the heart with an ice pick and my lung has also been punctured. It is horrible. This is the most awful thing I have ever been a part of.” But she just said “I’m wet.” I was certain that she wasn’t really that wet. Damp, maybe. Wet? No. She got over it.
Thirty minutes later as I was clearing tables, my tray was now loaded with three half full bottles of Pelligrino and a couple of coffee creamers that still had milk in them. I was standing next to the bus tub to deposit them but waiting for people to get the hell out of the way. Someone bumped into me causing the bottles to fall over spilling water on my shirt and then knocking the creamers full of milk onto the floor. The man who ran into me had this brilliant question for me: Am I in the way? Well, let’s see, sir. You are standing between the computer, the trash can, the service station and the bus tub so yes. You are in the way. Can’t he go stand where the other customers are? Go outside? Go to his table? Go home? He informed me that he just wanted to find a place that he would not be in the way, so he moved two whole feet and proceeded to stand in the only means of entrance to the room. Just stood there. Yeah, that’s better, sir.
I took a cue from the lady at Table 32 and grabbed a bev nap and dried myself off. I was way wetter than she was, but mine was only water. At least hers was Cosmopeariton. She got to smell like a cocktail while I just smelled like sparkling water, hummus and bitterness.