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It was a hard day today. As a way to make up for a little of this, we went out to dinner to a local Chinese buffet place.
Seated near us was a family of five: grandmother, mother, father, boy girl.
The kids were completely out of control. Right when we sat down, I noticed the dad talking to another table of customers. I know he was the dad because the girl was sitting at her table yelling. What was she yelling?
"DAD! DAD! WHERE'S MY ROOT BEER? DAD! WHERE'S MY ROOT BEER? DAD! DAD! IS THIS MY ROOT BEER? DAD! WHERE'S MY ROOT BEER?"
Girl proceeds to pick up a VERY full glass of brown, root beer-ish liquid and hold it over her head. "DAD! IS THIS MY ROOT BEER? DAD! DAD! DAD! DAD! DAD! IS THIS MY ROOT BEER? DAD! DAD! DAD! DAD! I SPILLED IT! DAD! COME HELP ME NOW! I SPILLED IT! DAD! I SPILLED IT!"
I was, at this point, considering spilling someone's blood. Throughout this, DAD hasn't moved. He's either ignoring the girl or he's having trouble turning his ponderous bulk around to address her. Seriously, this guy was so fat he looked like he was leaning backwards (no disrespect to the overweight. I could easily stand to lose 10...or 40 pounds myself).
DAD finally goes back and deals with the girl, who apparently can't eat unless she knows precisely where her root beer is. He suggests maybe tasting the beverage, but evidently, the kid will explode if she ingests anything that isn't ROOT BEER! ROOT BEER!
Now the mom shows up, and...well...Mom makes dad look petite. The woman was seriously "How does she go to the bathroom?" big.
Was this the end of the story? Why no, of course not. The two kids, once they've eaten a small plate of food, decide that it is time to raid the dessert table. They do this, essentially STANDING AT THE DESSERT TABLE, then walking around the restaurant with their food. Mom and DAD are far too engrossed in their (yes, I counted) fourth enormously heaped plates of food since we sat down to control their kids, who have now essentially eaten the equivalent of a case of Pixie Stix in ice cream, chocolate pudding, and cookies. Girl child spent a substantial amount of the dinner eating while walking around their table, or standing in the middle of the restaurant on the path between tables and buffet gorging herself with sugar. The boy decided it was a really good idea to start dismantling the flower arrangement set on the top of a high wall--he had to climb onto the back of his chair to do it. Mom and DAD remained engrossed in the process of stuffing their endless gut cavities with deep fried Chinese food.
When we left, the parents were on their fifth plates of food since we'd been there. Those plates? At least 35 crab legs. The boy was still dismantling the flower arrangement; the girl had gotten to the point of dancing next to the table in the way of the workers clearing plates.
I no longer wonder why a significant portion of the world dislikes Americans.
Seated near us was a family of five: grandmother, mother, father, boy girl.
The kids were completely out of control. Right when we sat down, I noticed the dad talking to another table of customers. I know he was the dad because the girl was sitting at her table yelling. What was she yelling?
"DAD! DAD! WHERE'S MY ROOT BEER? DAD! WHERE'S MY ROOT BEER? DAD! DAD! IS THIS MY ROOT BEER? DAD! WHERE'S MY ROOT BEER?"
Girl proceeds to pick up a VERY full glass of brown, root beer-ish liquid and hold it over her head. "DAD! IS THIS MY ROOT BEER? DAD! DAD! DAD! DAD! DAD! IS THIS MY ROOT BEER? DAD! DAD! DAD! DAD! I SPILLED IT! DAD! COME HELP ME NOW! I SPILLED IT! DAD! I SPILLED IT!"
I was, at this point, considering spilling someone's blood. Throughout this, DAD hasn't moved. He's either ignoring the girl or he's having trouble turning his ponderous bulk around to address her. Seriously, this guy was so fat he looked like he was leaning backwards (no disrespect to the overweight. I could easily stand to lose 10...or 40 pounds myself).
DAD finally goes back and deals with the girl, who apparently can't eat unless she knows precisely where her root beer is. He suggests maybe tasting the beverage, but evidently, the kid will explode if she ingests anything that isn't ROOT BEER! ROOT BEER!
Now the mom shows up, and...well...Mom makes dad look petite. The woman was seriously "How does she go to the bathroom?" big.
Was this the end of the story? Why no, of course not. The two kids, once they've eaten a small plate of food, decide that it is time to raid the dessert table. They do this, essentially STANDING AT THE DESSERT TABLE, then walking around the restaurant with their food. Mom and DAD are far too engrossed in their (yes, I counted) fourth enormously heaped plates of food since we sat down to control their kids, who have now essentially eaten the equivalent of a case of Pixie Stix in ice cream, chocolate pudding, and cookies. Girl child spent a substantial amount of the dinner eating while walking around their table, or standing in the middle of the restaurant on the path between tables and buffet gorging herself with sugar. The boy decided it was a really good idea to start dismantling the flower arrangement set on the top of a high wall--he had to climb onto the back of his chair to do it. Mom and DAD remained engrossed in the process of stuffing their endless gut cavities with deep fried Chinese food.
When we left, the parents were on their fifth plates of food since we'd been there. Those plates? At least 35 crab legs. The boy was still dismantling the flower arrangement; the girl had gotten to the point of dancing next to the table in the way of the workers clearing plates.
I no longer wonder why a significant portion of the world dislikes Americans.
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