Anyways, we went to B. Dubs. And after being seated, I headed to the bathroom. When I came back, the waiter was delivering Jamie's drink and began to jokingly harrass me about not coming to the table three minutes earlier to save him a trip. I ordered my drink and we figured out our meal.
He came and began to take our order. He was really good spirited, fun and funny. He had one of those personalities that just rock in a waiter. Mild mannered, laid back, perfect to serve at B. Dubs.
Jamie ordered onion rings for us to share, and a order of 12 wings (4 Teriaki, 4 Honey BBQ, and 4 of some other flavor). About halfway through her order, he asked her to hold on a second. He didn't have a pen and needed to run back and forth from the computer to place the order as it was made. I added my order of 8 boneless wings (4 Mild, 4 Honey BBQ) and more running back and forth ensued. It was quite humorous to be placing the order and having the waiter there one moment, gone the next. However, it all got ordered and he confirmed the order and we began to wait.
The conversation was great, as it always is with Jamie. Then, our food came. The waiter sat down five containers of wings, but all were boneless, so I kindly pointed out that Jamie ordered real wings, not boneless wings. He groaned in sarcastic exasperation, took her order back, and laughed in relief when he realized it was a kitchen error, not his. As we ate (Jamie only eating onion rings because her wings were still being made), be came to check on us. Jamie asked for extra napkins and he gave us some good humored grief and brought back the largest stack of napkins ever. He soon returned with her bone-in wings. And all was well...until Jamie counted and realized that she only had nine wings (3 in each flavor).
More conversation as we waited for the waiter to return. Then, he came to check on us again and asked if we were okay. Jamie pointed out that she only had nine wings. After some confusion and counting, he realized that she needed three more. She said it was no big deal if she could just be charged for nine, it was fine not to get three more, but he said that there was no such order for nine wings, so he'd go get the remaining wings for her order.
And then I asked if I could have 4 more boneless wings (and I asked for Honey BBQ). He said it couldn't be done. I asked why not...it would change from an order of 8 to an order of 12 (which is also one the menu), then he seemed real confused, but said he'd talk to the manager.
Once it got taken care of, he seemed less giggly with us and we began to think we broke his spirit. After asking for (and recieving) a refill of my drink, he brought me my extra four wings. And as he sat them down, I realized that they were Mild, not Honey BBQ. I felt awful, but I pointed it out. He took them and walked away, no longer laughing and cracking jokes. We felt bad.
He brought Jamie's three missing wings, my four extra ordered boneless wings, and a refill for Jamie. By this point, we were plotting a plan to cheer him up....a poem on a napkin, telling him that despite our crappy turnout of a meal due to a ton of mixups, we had a great time and he was a fun waiter. Of course, we were planning on leaving it at the table as a surprise, so everytime he walked past, it was stuffed beside me on the bench so he couldn't see it.
Except, as we were half done, and I set it down on the bench, it somehow fell between the cracks. For moments, there was this horror of an unfinished poem never reaching completion. We figured it was doomed to be lost forever. And then, a second fear arose: it slid onto the seat behind me where a couple was just seated and they would find it instead of our waiter. However, soon, we realized it was under the seat. Then we realized that it was near impossible to reach it.
I tried. I reached my hand down and nothing. I tried to twist my leg under the booth to get it. No avail. We twisted the table around to give me wiggle room, but still nothing. So, in a final act of desparation, we moved the table nearly entirely diagonally and Jamie slid down in her seat and stretched her leg across and under my seat to grab it with her foot, then, once it was out, I was able to grasp it with my fingertips. Whoo hoo. Sweet relief.
Then, we burst into giggles. Hysterical, manic giggles. Ridiculous, belly laughs. Tears rolling down our faces. And snorts. Hiccups. And during it all, the waiter came to grab the bill and my credit card. We couldn't speak. We couldn't do anything other the laugh. He seemed concerned at one point. And I believe he gave up on us.
Once we settled down, we resumed composure of our poem while we finished our drinks. He did ask when he returned if we were going to share what was so funny. We giggled that he would find out. Then, after finishing the poem, we left the signed receipt and the tip and left. He did manage to catch us on the way out and ask again if we were going to tell him what was so funny. I patted his shoulder and told him that he needed to go clean off the table. When we left, we drove past the window where we had sat and saw him sitting there, reading the poem written on a napkin in red ink.
The poem was horrible and cheesy and looked like something Isa would write, but I hope we brought his smile back, despite our train wreck of an order. And, we left him a little extra as a tip...to show no hard feelings.
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