Wally and The Tool
Mitch and I had a chance to go out on a Saturday night, thanks to the wonderful friends who invited Max to a airsoft battle/sleepover. We decided to head into town and try a new Mexican restaurant... the latest incarnation in a site that goes through restaurants like 11-year-olds go through a bag of Doritos.
We waited about 20 minutes at the bar (wish I was drinking, for the infused tequilas looked great) and then were ushered to a tiny corner table amidst a cluster of mixed seating.
An aside: one of my issues with various local restaurants in their insistence on squeezing as many diners into one space as possible. There is a great local place I love to dine at, but only if we can get a table in First Class. Those are the best tables, right against the window with views onto Church Street. There are also Coach tables and Steerage tables... Steerage has you seated in the middle of the room, mere inches from the table next to you. When sitting there, I'm reduced to reading the lips of my dining companion, for inevitably, the diner next to me will be a Loud Talker, and I will hear nothing but this person for the entire meal.
So we were occupying a little corner table, which allowed us to sit next to each other instead of across from each other, but it also meant anyone getting to our table would have to have their ass or crotch slide along the chair backs of the adjacent tables. Awkward, to say the least.
The two-seat table next to us was occupied by two young guys. The way we were seated meant I was sitting about a foot from the guy we shall now refer to as The Tool, and Mitch was facing his dining companion, Wally. Incidentally, there was another two-top table that faced Mitch across the walkway, which allowed those diners to see everyone seated in our dining area.
The Tool, we quickly discovered, was a Loud Talker. The Tool should be on the stage, for he had the sort of Projection my theater instructors were always trying to teach. Wally spoke in normal, human tones, but The Tool's voice could be heard in different parts of the restaurant (I know, for I could hear him all the way to the Ladies Room, which was at least a room away.
It soon became apparent that our dining experience was going to be colored by the pretty much one-sided conversation Wally and The Tool were having. Mitch and I tried talking to each other, but it was hard, for The Tool was so very vocal. Finally, Mitch and I just dialed in and started conversing with each other about our neighbors' interactions.
Wally, it seems, had been living with a woman named Katie in Austin, before moving to Vermont. Apparently Wally was second-guessing his decision to move away from Katie, for it seems absence had made his heart grow fonder. Katie had spend a semester abroad in Greece, where she may have gotten involved with a Greek guy, and Wally had been off Katie as a result, but they had gotten back together before Wally moved, and he was thinking he needed to go back to Austin to be with her again.
The Tool had many vocal opinions to share on Wally's love life. The Tool had a tendency to make various loud statements that were not particularly supportive of his friend Wally. In fact, there were times he was downright abusive in his tone and manner.
You Need to Listen To Me, Wally. You Don't Know What You Are Doing!
I'd Love To Think I'd Be At Your Wedding Someday, But I Don't See You and Katie Making IT. In Fact, I Think You Will Be Divorced In Six Months.
What the Hell Did Katie Do In Greece Anyway? Didn't She Fuck That Guy When You Two Were Still Together?
I Tried Love Once, and It Didn't Work for Me. Don't Trust Love, Wally.
You Moved Here To Get Away From Katie, and Now You Are Thinking About Going Back? You're An Idiot, Wally.
It was really quite the show. At one point I turned to Mitch and said, "Do you think they are rehearing for a play?" The people at the table across the walkway were also part of the accidental audience. They caught Mitch's eye and shook their heads at Wally and The Tool. Was The Tool drunk? It seemed that way, yet I could see he was drinking a clear soda. Still, it could have been a gin and tonic. Mitch and I started speculating aloud about what we were hearing. Mitch joked about inviting Wally to join us, if only to get him away from The Tool. Finally, we'd had enough.
I turned to Mitch. "We should intervene." We debated the advisability of such an action, but it was too good to resist. I tapped The Tool on the shoulder and said, "We need to borrow Wally for a moment."
Mitch scooted over so Wally could join us. The Tool announced, "I'm Telling Him He Needs To Get Back Together With His Girlfriend."
I answered, "No, you aren't. We've heard the whole thing. You are giving him terrible advice."
The Tool took offense at this. "I Am a 31-Year-Old Man." Whatever, Tool. This is Wally's intervention.
Mitch spoke to Wally in a kindly tone. "What your friend doesn't know about women is a lot. Take his advice with a grain of salt. Do what you need to do, and don't be influenced by people like him."
We let Wally go, and continued to ignore The Tool. If nothing else, it got The Tool to speak at a normal human volume. They left a bit later, ending our entertainment but leaving us plenty of fodder for conversation.
After they were gone, I summed up my thoughts by giving The Tool his official nickname. "Wally's friend is a real tool." "No," Mitch said. "He's immature. A 31-year-old man, indeed. He's a child-man with a need to feel important at the expense of others." "I think he's a dick." We had a good laugh, imagining continuing our intervention with Wally by sharing our diagnoses. "I think your friend is a child-man with a need to feel important at the expense of others, but my wife thinks he's a dick."
If nothing else, we have a good story and some fun catch phrases to bandy about.
We waited about 20 minutes at the bar (wish I was drinking, for the infused tequilas looked great) and then were ushered to a tiny corner table amidst a cluster of mixed seating.
An aside: one of my issues with various local restaurants in their insistence on squeezing as many diners into one space as possible. There is a great local place I love to dine at, but only if we can get a table in First Class. Those are the best tables, right against the window with views onto Church Street. There are also Coach tables and Steerage tables... Steerage has you seated in the middle of the room, mere inches from the table next to you. When sitting there, I'm reduced to reading the lips of my dining companion, for inevitably, the diner next to me will be a Loud Talker, and I will hear nothing but this person for the entire meal.
So we were occupying a little corner table, which allowed us to sit next to each other instead of across from each other, but it also meant anyone getting to our table would have to have their ass or crotch slide along the chair backs of the adjacent tables. Awkward, to say the least.
The two-seat table next to us was occupied by two young guys. The way we were seated meant I was sitting about a foot from the guy we shall now refer to as The Tool, and Mitch was facing his dining companion, Wally. Incidentally, there was another two-top table that faced Mitch across the walkway, which allowed those diners to see everyone seated in our dining area.
The Tool, we quickly discovered, was a Loud Talker. The Tool should be on the stage, for he had the sort of Projection my theater instructors were always trying to teach. Wally spoke in normal, human tones, but The Tool's voice could be heard in different parts of the restaurant (I know, for I could hear him all the way to the Ladies Room, which was at least a room away.
It soon became apparent that our dining experience was going to be colored by the pretty much one-sided conversation Wally and The Tool were having. Mitch and I tried talking to each other, but it was hard, for The Tool was so very vocal. Finally, Mitch and I just dialed in and started conversing with each other about our neighbors' interactions.
Wally, it seems, had been living with a woman named Katie in Austin, before moving to Vermont. Apparently Wally was second-guessing his decision to move away from Katie, for it seems absence had made his heart grow fonder. Katie had spend a semester abroad in Greece, where she may have gotten involved with a Greek guy, and Wally had been off Katie as a result, but they had gotten back together before Wally moved, and he was thinking he needed to go back to Austin to be with her again.
The Tool had many vocal opinions to share on Wally's love life. The Tool had a tendency to make various loud statements that were not particularly supportive of his friend Wally. In fact, there were times he was downright abusive in his tone and manner.
You Need to Listen To Me, Wally. You Don't Know What You Are Doing!
I'd Love To Think I'd Be At Your Wedding Someday, But I Don't See You and Katie Making IT. In Fact, I Think You Will Be Divorced In Six Months.
What the Hell Did Katie Do In Greece Anyway? Didn't She Fuck That Guy When You Two Were Still Together?
I Tried Love Once, and It Didn't Work for Me. Don't Trust Love, Wally.
You Moved Here To Get Away From Katie, and Now You Are Thinking About Going Back? You're An Idiot, Wally.
It was really quite the show. At one point I turned to Mitch and said, "Do you think they are rehearing for a play?" The people at the table across the walkway were also part of the accidental audience. They caught Mitch's eye and shook their heads at Wally and The Tool. Was The Tool drunk? It seemed that way, yet I could see he was drinking a clear soda. Still, it could have been a gin and tonic. Mitch and I started speculating aloud about what we were hearing. Mitch joked about inviting Wally to join us, if only to get him away from The Tool. Finally, we'd had enough.
I turned to Mitch. "We should intervene." We debated the advisability of such an action, but it was too good to resist. I tapped The Tool on the shoulder and said, "We need to borrow Wally for a moment."
Mitch scooted over so Wally could join us. The Tool announced, "I'm Telling Him He Needs To Get Back Together With His Girlfriend."
I answered, "No, you aren't. We've heard the whole thing. You are giving him terrible advice."
The Tool took offense at this. "I Am a 31-Year-Old Man." Whatever, Tool. This is Wally's intervention.
Mitch spoke to Wally in a kindly tone. "What your friend doesn't know about women is a lot. Take his advice with a grain of salt. Do what you need to do, and don't be influenced by people like him."
We let Wally go, and continued to ignore The Tool. If nothing else, it got The Tool to speak at a normal human volume. They left a bit later, ending our entertainment but leaving us plenty of fodder for conversation.
After they were gone, I summed up my thoughts by giving The Tool his official nickname. "Wally's friend is a real tool." "No," Mitch said. "He's immature. A 31-year-old man, indeed. He's a child-man with a need to feel important at the expense of others." "I think he's a dick." We had a good laugh, imagining continuing our intervention with Wally by sharing our diagnoses. "I think your friend is a child-man with a need to feel important at the expense of others, but my wife thinks he's a dick."
If nothing else, we have a good story and some fun catch phrases to bandy about.