The Time I Waited on Queen Elizabeth

Queen Elizabeth at Houlihan's Times Square, 1995

Queen Elizabeth at Houlihan’s Times Square, 1995

Seeing that it’s Queen Elizabeth’s 90th birthday today, I have decided to write about the totally, not made up time I waited on her when she came in to Houlihan’s on 49th and Seventh in Times Square.

It is 1995 and I am working section 3 with Jill and Kristin. We know someone big is coming in when we hear trumpets blaring downstairs at Tequilaville. We are always getting famous people in here so it’s not that big of a deal I mean, once you have waited on Palmer Cortland from All My Children, everyone else is a big let down. All of a sudden, the dining room is full of knights in shining armor and one of them stands right in the middle of the room and makes a proclamation.

“Hear ye, hear ye. It is with great pleasure that I announce to you the arrival of Her Royal Highness, Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth II of the United Kingdom and the Commonwealth of Nations. She will be sitting at Booth 8.”

“Oh, great,” I mutter to Jill. “That’s me.”

Two minutes later, three footman carry the Queen into the restaurant and deposit her in my section. I immediately place a bev nap on the table so my manager will know that I have greeted her. I decide not to curtsey or bow since I’m not one of her subjects and I just treat her like any other table.

“My name is Darron and I’’ll be taking care of you today. Would you like to start off with some cheesy buffalo fried mozzarella balls or a plate of super nachos?”

She gazes at me with eyes of steely reserve and tells me she would like a glass of purified water with three limes wedges, one lemon wedge and a celery stalk. She also order nachos.

“Guac is extra,” I tell her as I head to the bar to get her “purified” water that comes directly from the soda gun. I also place her order and intentionally do not tell the kitchen it’s for a VIP since, who cares? She’s the Queen of England and all that, but she ain’t no Palmer Cortland.

“Do you know what else you’d like to order?” I ask her. “The fajitas don’t suck too bad. What are you doing here in New York anyway?”

“Ahem, I will have the Earl of Hamburger with a slice of Windsor cheddar. Cooked well-done with no garnish. Also, please bring me chips with malt vinegar, mayonnaise and Worcestershire sauce. And I am her to see a Broadway show called Moon Over Buffalo.”

“Oh, I saw that! With Carol Burnette. She’s hilarious.”

“Yes, she used to make fun of me on her little variety show that was on the telly. I have never met her before and I want to tell her to her face how much I detest her impersonation of me. Chop, chop, hurry up with my Earl of Hamburger. My show starts in twenty minutes.”

I look at my watch and see it is 1:40. Her well-done burger is not going to be done in time, especially since I have not even rung it in yet and, on top of that, her nachos still have not arrived.

“Yeah. I don’t think you’re gonna make that curtain time. You should be going right now. How about I box up your nachos to go?”

“Broadway will wait. I am The Queen.”

“Listen, Liz, Broadway is full of queens and they don’t wait for anyone. Trust me, lemme just pack up your nachos and I will get your henchman to carry you out so you can get to the show on time. You do not want to miss the beginning of it.”

For a brief second, I think she is about to have me beheaded but then she sighs.

“Very well. I will eat my nachos on the way. You are very kind. Tell me your name so that I may knight you.”

“Oh my gosh, really? My name is Darron. But I thought to be knighted you had to be born in the UK.”

“I’m the goddam queen, I can do whatever the fuck I want. Get down on your knees.”

Now the last time someone asked me to get down on my knees at work it was my manager who was having me scrape gum from underneath the tables. I hoped that’s not what she was going to ask me to do. She reaches into her pocketbook and pulls out a retractable scepter that click-clacked open. She places it on my left shoulder just as Michael C. is bringing the nachos out.

“Michael, can you box those up please? She needs to go.”

With characteristic attitude and snark, Michael says, “Goddamit, why didn’t you fucking tell me that five minutes ago, bitch?”

“Who you calling a bitch, bitch? I say.

“You, bitch’” he retorts.

The Queens clears her throat. “With this scepter, I bestow upon you the honor of knighthood granted to this, umm… bitchy waiter-”

“My name’s Darron,” I interrupt.

“Yada, yada, yada, etcetera, etcetera, knighthood, blah, blah, blah. And scene. You’re a knight. Now get my nachos.”

I run to to the kitchen to grab the to-go bag and return to to Booth 8. Her lady-in-waiting pays the bill, leaving me a 10% tip. Fucking foreigners. And with that, she is gone.

So happy birthday, Liz! Keep up the good work. And thanks for the totally not photoshopped photo!!

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