The Crankee Yankee and I often have breakfast or lunch at our favorite restaurant (Steve’s) in town. The food is fabulous, and the wait staff are friendly and helpful. I’d say that we have breakfast or lunch there at least two or three times a week.
Generally, we like to go to breakfast most of all. The Crankee Yankee loves their pancakes, and I always go for their eggs benedict (yup, I know it sounds pretty hoity-toity, but it’s delicious). Neither of us has ever had a bad meal there.
Everyone practices social distance, and everyone comes in with a mask on. Of course, once in, the masks are off. Tables are set up so that there is always an empty table between people’s tables. Everything about that restaurant is great.
Except for one thing: for some reason, there are some people who truly enjoy talking about themselves, their children, where to go for a covid test, who they are voting for, and blah, blah, blah. That’s not a problem until they get loud.
Just the other morning when the Crankee Yankee and I were half-way through our breakfasts, some woman and her friend about six tables away from us and were talking loudly. I don’t mean a loud laugh or a chuckle; I mean LOUD TALKING. In the half hour we stayed there, we heard more about that woman’s life, political preference, her daughter’s favorite actress, the itchy spot on her armpit that just wouldn’t go away, and whether or not she should get tested for Covid.
Seriously, it was like being chained to a chair with the TV on full blast touting the latest doo-dad for hours on end. I don’t think she realized how loud she was, but trust me; every single person in that restaurant learned WAY more about this woman than anyone cared to know. At one point I was thinking of sending her an order of pancakes topped with crazy glue.
Ah well, at least we got a bit of entertainment that day. And I sure do hope that the woman got something to soothe that itchy armpit.