Friday, June 30, 2006

Those doods in Buffalo reminded me

of something that happened a few years ago when I was waitressing at Pizza Hut. These 2 young guys (20's) sat down and got water and menus. 5 minutes later, I returned to take their order (as per the Pizza Hut Manifesto), and they were gone. Like a puff of smoke. I looked around at the other tables: nope. I peeked under the table (who knows?): nothing. I got the manager to check the washroom: nada. Nobody out in the parking lot. Wondering if I hallucinated the whole thing, I started cleaning up their table: 2 water glasses, a couple of balled-up serviettes, and about an ounce of pot.

Whoa. Oh, yeah, right, I thought. 2 young kids having a joke on the old hippie waitress. Except when I stuck my nose in the baggie (as old hippies are wont to do), the fragrance within was pungently, gloriously, skunky. If this was a joke, I was liking the punch line. I stuffed the baggie in my apron pocket and wondered if they'd come back to claim it. And if so, how they'd go about asking for it... "Ummm, I think we left something here...?" If they had the cojones to return for a lost bag of pot, I was not only going to return it, but give them a free pizza for having such brass ones.

But they didn't come back, and it was left to me to dispose of the contraband. There are tips, and there are tips. And that was the best tip I ever got.