A Mysterious Dinner

At dinner tonight, I thought my waitress was hitting on me. Or maybe not hitting on me, but trying to get me to hit on her. She was about my age, and nicer than one would normally be to a stranger, but of course that’s just part of the job. What gave me the impression she was hitting on me were the long pauses she left after everything I said.

She would say “Are you ready to order?” And I would reply “Yes, I’ll have the Tortelini Portabella.” This is how normal waitress-diner exchanges go in my experience. But then she would just stand there and look at me. What was she waiting for? It was like a scene in a romantic comedy, where one person is afraid to say anything about the obvious chemistry, and instead just waits for the other to bring it up.

Except there was no chemistry. Not on my end, anyway. Not only am I married, but even if I weren’t, she was more creeping me out than attracting me. I was eating at the restaurant attached to the hotel I’m staying in, and charging my meal to my room. So I had given her my room number. In one of those romantic comedies, she would maybe show up at my door later. But in a horror movie, I would wake up in the bathtub missing a kidney. And I was seeing myself more in the horror movie plot. Even if she wasn’t a serial organ-thief (and really, it would be kind of dumb doing that so close to where she works), did she make a habit of picking up guests in the adjacent hotel? Guests wearing wedding rings? Isn’t that a little odd?

Yes, it is, I concluded. I tried to watch as she spoke to other tables. Did she do the same thing with them? The nearest occupied table was too far away to tell. I looked at her co-workers as they walked by. Did any of their faces reveal a secret fear that my waitress was a nutjob? They offered no clues.

But then, toward the end of my meal, my waitress herself revealed the truth. If I weren’t already suspicious, I may not have even noticed. “Is everything alright?“ she asked. “Yes, thanks,” I said. Normally I would expect a waitress to leave my table at this point, but by then I expected this waitress to awkwardly stand there for a moment in silence. She did neither. Instead she did something I didn’t expect at all. She said “Are you done with your sal- *hiccup* salad?” I answered “Yes, thanks,” as I had long ago finished my salad.

Now I’m a little disappointed. My dinner was neither the would-be romantic comedy nor the horror movie I had imagined. It was just a waitress with the hiccups, trying not to hiccup in the middle of talking to me. That’s not very interesting at all. But still, I locked the door.

 
 
 
so she had the hiccups from the time she took your order to the time you finished eating?
 
 
 
 
It was a short meal, so maybe. But if it makes a better story, let's say she was stuttering.
 
 
 
 
did she hiccup when she removed your kidney?
 
 
 
 
Maybe she was drunk.
 
 
 
 
what is her hiccup sound like?
 
 
 
 
do you like her when she hiccup
 
 
 
 
is her hiccup cute? i wish i was u
 
 
 
 
is her hiccup cute? i wish i was u
 

Be number 9:

 
 
 
knows half of 8 is