Sunday, February 07, 2010

Super Bowl Sunday

I bet not a soul is on the Internet today. You all are downing beers and tearing into bags of chips instead. I bet no one is reading this. If you are Hi! Thanks!

I'm kind of over the Superbowl. Yeah, I'm going to watch it. There will be about 35 other people jammed into my parents' living room watching it with me. As I mentioned on Twitter yesterday, my parents' house is now more like "Big Momma's House." Or a VHI reality show, open casting call.

People, the Super Bowl is here. It's in South Florida. It seems to have brought thousands of drunken idiots from all over the world with it. The streets are jammed. The restaurants are packed. You can't get in anyway. Last night it took me 35 minutes to drive what usually takes me ten. Strippers are rampant. They know the money is big this weekend, so they migrate down here for the weekend. Strippers are free agents like that. They can show up someplace and get to work. It's not like there's any elaborate training involved.

I can't leave the house without getting hit on by tourists torn up on rum runners. The wedding ring doesn't deter them. I had to go to the 7-11 to get a bottle of water Friday night and a group of what looked like 45 year old frat boys actually made their taxi stop in the middle of the road so they could actually get out of it, also in the middle of the road and cat call me and try to get me to, I guess, just leave my car parked at the 7-11, and run off with them. I wonder where they would have taken me.

It's bad at stoplights. You have to try to ignore it and not make eye contact with the car full of jackholes next to you beeping and hanging out the windows trying to both vomit and get your attention. I just look straight ahead and turn up the radio.

The other night, some black guys got me to roll the window down. I did this for one reason only. White guilt. They were gesturing wildly for me to roll the window down. At first I suspected the usual. They were going to hit on me. But then I thought, what if they were lost or what if they were going to tell me something important like my gas tank was open or my tire was flat or something? If I ignored them, they'd think I was racist! I might hurt their feelings. I didn't want them thinking I was some mean, stuck up white lady, so what did I do? I rolled the window down.


I laughed and waved and said something positive about The Saints for them and told them my name was Mrs. Lawns and they better not forget it. They were very disappointed that I was married.

I'm not rolling the window down for anyone. In fact, I'm going to just go ahead and avoid ( as much as possible)being in the car until tomorrow.

But this is just minor silliness compared to what my poor sister has to deal with. She works as a server and bartender in a Cajun bar called the Brew Bayou. You can imagine what's going down there this weekend. They've closed down the parking lot and set tables outside with big screens to watch the game. It's going to be mass insanity. Mardi Gras is going to look like a church social in comparison.

She's working a double. She's been working doubles since Thursday to accommodate all these people and on her pee breaks, she calls me from the restroom and vents in 30 second spurts. I'm afraid she's going to shove a crawfish up someone's nose and I'm going to have to bail her out of jail.

Here are my two favorite, horrible incidents.

One customer orders a bunch of food, eats it and then gives her exact change for the bill.

"I'm sorry honey. I can't tip you. I just spent my last dime on my Super Bowl tickets."

Another group came into the restaurant with tupperwares full of their own ribs because they were trying to save money and wanted to "hang out" and eat them at the restaurant's tables. WHO DOES THAT? Jeez. If you want to save money, take the ribs to a friend's house or go have a picnic on the beach. Or, how about this novel idea - stay the hell home.

But the worst thing she's had to put up with was the hot pepper eating contest.

A father comes in with three sons, all under the age of twelve. It appeared that it was his weekend for visitation and that he knows nothing about parenting whatsoever. The kids were rowdy. He watched the TV at the bar. They ordered everything - oysters, catfish, burgers, jambalaya and crawfish. On each table there are different bottles of hot sauce and then jars of whole hot peppers in vinegar. The kids get this brilliant idea to snatch these jars off of other tables so that each kid could have his own jar for a hot pepper eating contest. Of course they did this AFTER having eaten this enormous spread and while their father did absolutely nothing to stop them. The first two kids daintily removed a couple peppers from the bottle, but the third son downed the whole thing Fear Factor style and promptly barfed it up all over the table, along with the enormous meal he'd just eaten. Customers went running outside. It became mass hysteria. The father did nothing. It was, of course, my sister's table. She refused to go near it because she's as weird about puke as I am. She started gagging. One of the Haitian dishwashers from the back had to come out and clean it and then they had to bleach the table, floor and chairs. It took a long time. After he cleaned the initial puke, the dishwasher had to run in the back to get the bleach and clean cloths. Right at this moment, a stuck up, rich white lady type comes in with a bunch of her friends and demands a table.

"We don't have any right now, so it'll be a short wait."

The woman sees the puke table, which now has the puke removed, but has not been sanitized with bleach.

My sister explains the situation.

The woman throws a royal hissy fit, completely ignoring the fact that a kid just yakked all over the table. She wants THAT table and she wants it right now. She yells at my sister, calls her rude and then yells at the dishwasher to hurry up with the bleach.

While this is going on, the father of the hellion sons is still at the bar. The kids are outside running wild in the parking lot. He pays his tab and hands my sister three dollars. Three freaking dollars for all that. But that's not all.

"I feel bad for the guy who had to clean that up," the dad laughs.

He doesn't give the dishwasher a tip. He doesn't apologize. Nothing. He just laughs, stiffs my sister out of the amount she should have gotten and leaves.

What a jerk. Jerk doesn't even describe this man, but I'm still trying really hard not to cuss. I can not believe that people act like this.

So my poor sister gave the whopping three bucks to the dishwasher and I'm sure she gave him some more out of her tips to make up for it too, which means that because of this idiot, she actually lost money instead of made money for all the work she did.

Today is going to be the worst of it though. Pray my sister makes it and that the evening doesn't end in her having to resort to violence.

Enjoy your Super Bowl parties!


MtnMama said...

Thank you for reminding me about the downside of being a server! ;)
I am only on the Interwebs because it's too early to leave for my friend's house, and it is snowing. Poor schmuck; everyone is going to be tracking snow into her house, kids and her roommate's dog. But she chose to do this. You won't catch me hosting a SB party. But I am bringing a boatload of food.

Erica said...

meh...I suppose it should be a good game, but I find football insufferably boring. Maybe I'll keep it on for the commercials. But on behalf of those of us who could not care less about a football game, thanks for giving us something to read because everyone is doing the SB thing and not updating!

I hope the Saints win if only for the fact that maybe your sister's tips will improve? Maybe? One can only hope.

TWolf said...

Keeping my fingers crossed for your sister! Sitting here watching the kickoff show with The Boy. At least you should get a few more good posts off the party from the sound of it!

kerry said...

Good luck to your sister!

I'm a football fan, and I'm looking forward to the game, but not going anywhere for it. Staying home.

Anonymous said...

I am here on the wide, wide world of webs today, so thank you for writing. I don't give a flip about the Super Bowl. Your sister's life this week sounds like a nightmare. I would have already stabbed somebody with a fork.

Michelle said...

So glad I'm not stuck serving anymore. People are so awful sometimes.

Maria said...

I'm reading your blog and the game is on right now!

Also, I was in Miami last night for a whole 3 hours. I don't know why I'm sharing that fact but there you go.

Dayna said...

I was here, read your blog earlier.

Anonymous said...

Sister-thank you for thinking of me!! I can tell you that the two weeks worth of work that I did in four days was not worth the money and that I was correct in my guess of Super Bowl Shit Show! There were campers, boots, and road kill eating trash!! People did in fact spend every dime that they had to come here and ruin my week! One guy walked (hitch hiked) from New Orleans to raise money for Hatians (his own Super Bowl tickets I'm sure). We had news people all week from Lousyanna and other random southern places. Really?? There is nothing that special about my place of employment other than the fact that everything is fried and takes forever!! Thought you would enjoy this one as wonderful husband also worked all weekend shucking oysters and serving crawfish. A see you next tuesday (for those who don't know what this means...sorry, you would probably take offense to it anyway!) went outside to vent about what a bitch the female bartender was to her and my husband defended me and didn't give her any food!

Diane Laney Fitzpatrick said...

Your poor sister. Waitressing sucks.

Amy said...

Wow, you attracted that much attention Mrs Lawns?! You must be a real stunner!! I haven't been on your blog for a while and am still catching up!

There's nothing really like Super Bowl here in Aus, unless you count our AFL (Australian Football League) Grand Final in September. We get interstate pilgrims, footy at the pubs and bbqs at people's houses, but nothing like the disgustingly hilarious behaviour you've written about! Was it even a tiny bit flattering to be attracting that kind of attention? :)

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