When I glance back to Booth 15 to see if their waters need filling or if they have finished their red curry mussels, something catches my eye. On the wall, directly behind the nice woman, I see something that is not usually there. At first, it appears to be a reflection or a shadow but as walk toward Booth 15 it becomes clear what it is: a roach. Not one of those little “I’m gonna sweep you up with a bev nap” kind of roaches, but a much bigger one. The kind that, if I were at home, would be chased around with a shoe until I slam it three or four times and I see its bug juices oozing onto the floor. I quickly veer off to the dish room so as not to bring attention to the unwelcome visitor. “This is what we get for leaving the patio door open on such a nice night,” I think.
From the dish room, I peer out from behind the curtain to access the situation. At once, I am happy and disappointed that the restaurant lights are so dim. If they were a bit brighter, I could see more clearly, but then so would the other woman at Booth 15 who is directly facing the roach. I give a prayer of thanks that the manager likes to keep it as dark as a crypt in the restaurant because that must be what is keeping anyone else from spying this thing that is big enough to have its own place setting. It moves around the wall, just a few inches from Lady #1. At one point, she laughs, tilting her head back, and I fear that she is going to lean directly onto the beast. I assume the other woman is either cataract-ridden, drunk or simply pretending she doesn’t see it, for why else would she not be calling me over to attend to it?
For fifteen minutes, the demon beetle of bitch street hovers on the wall and for fifteen minutes, I avoid it. Knowing there needs to be a cursory check on the women, I zoom by with a tray of glasses and ask if everything is alright. They confirm that it is, so I take that to mean either they don’t see the bug or they do see it and they don’t mind that a disgusting, two-inch cockroach has set up shop at their booth . I am torn. Do I ask them to move and then attack the enemy? Maybe I should discreetly swat it, but how? It is on the wall behind the booth, so it isn’t easily accessible. Or do I just go on pretending I don’t know about it and hope for the best?
Finally, I know what my decision is, which is not to decide. So I go into the restroom and do what every blogger would do in this situation and pull out my phone and do a live Facebook feed:
And there it is! Oh my god, it’s huge. And it’s flying! It’s one of those horrible water bugs that can fly and I know it wants to jet into my hair and make a nest. “Awwwkkk! Blech! Ughhhhh! It’s coming after me. Don’t lay any eggs in my hair, I just washed it today!” And then suddenly, I notice it isn’t flying like those bugs normally do, it is fluttering. Softy, it flies out from underneath the table and heads to the light fixture above me. It’s a moth! It was only a moth this whole time which would explain why the woman who was facing it didn’t scream with terror and demand that her ribeye steak (medium rare, sub fries) be comped. For the last twenty minutes, I had worried about a moth. I laugh to myself and think, “Well, maybe I can write a blog post about this…”
Grace
If ever a server pointed out and killed a roach that had been near my head they’d get the best tip I’ve ever left anyone. My hero, TBH.
Jason
Bitchy: viewing your site on mobile and keep getting redirected to one of those “your phone has a virus” sites with the unstoppable dialog boxes. Here’s the URL.
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Darja
Hilarious. ..I saw your live video…I would of done the same thing…good job buddy…I am a server out in Lake Tahoe at a golf course…we have had a yellow jacket bee problem..I love it when guests ask if there are bees outside. ..my funny retort is…well yes there are bees…mother nature hasn’t responded to my text yet…for no bees to bother you…you can’t fight mother nature!
Monica Baker
Mmm…
Medium Rare Rib-eye with fries…
Please get in my belly right now…
*leaves generous tip*