I Love Kids.
So I made the mistake of headed to a local "bar" and grill Sunday morning with girlfriend.
And yes I mean bar in the loosest of terms, Okoboji Grill for you locals.
Also I decided to bring my real GF, not the imaginary one I've carried in the back of my mind for a bit, come to think of it a few of you could stand to get laid once in a while from the sounds of it.
But I digress.
I spent a summer bartending for the same company several years back at a different location, a few times a week I picked up a wait shift for the extra cash.
Today I was here strictly for cheap booze to kill the remnants of the night before and for a lil grease for the tummy.
I was telling my lady friend horror stories of the few Sunday shifts I picked up, tales of obnoxious racing fans and drunk football assholes and such when I hit upon the goodie.
Kids Eat Free Sundays.
Then I realized what day it was, just then they got slammed.
Mobs and mobs of children with their trashy zookeeper like parents.
Made the best case I've seen yet for the Freedom of Choice crowd that I've ever heard.
It seems the sole reason for this day to exist was so the trailer park could empty for the day.
I bet the next destination for these demon spawn is 31 flavors and a sample of each one, with no purchases of course.
Maybe their prior stop was at the supermarket for sample day as an appetizer course.
There's "Progressive Dining" for you.
I figured a move to the bar itself would be a good choice about the time a creepy looking mongoloid child walked up to my table and stared at me while drooling.
Damn, the kids in Village of the Damned seemed cuddlier.
As each table arrived I felt more and more for the waitress, she was running her ass off as boys were racing to see how fast they could drink their Mountain Dews and girls were crying for "more cherries!"
I spied another kid crushing crackers up with his hands and throwing them all over the floor, all while his mom took another drag of her GPC cigarette while trying to maneuver a fried chicken gizzard into the vast abyss of her mouth.
Wow, holy flashback.
I remember being where that poor waitress was, dodging children as they ran under your legs, the occasional high pitched shriek of "SHUT UP" as a parenting tool.
I know I rarely acted like that as a kid, I knew what was coming to me when I got home.
And believe me, when I did act up I got what was coming to me and rest assured that kind of business didn't happen again for a long time.
What's sad is the parents, they're as bad as the kids.
Most of those who come in are either "church people" who deserve and will get their own rant or the pick of the litter on the state welfare roles.
Later that afternoon as I drive to work with its linen set tables and Riedel wine glasses, I remember that waitress.
Chances are I won't have any kids tonight, they're a rarity.
Her job is much harder than mine, I think those days at that transitional job are the ones that made me bitter, nothing like getting stiffed every other table and having to deal with that shit for free.