Monday, September 05, 2005

A Night out with the Deaf Server

-A Description of Amy, The Deaf Server-

I first introduced The Deaf Server, Amy, in the post The Deaf Guy. In that post, you learned that Amy is a bitch. Here is a little bit more information on Amy.

Amy is in her late 30's. She claims that she's in her late 20's. Her body could easily pass for the latter. Full chest, nice legs, trim waist. She's in good shape. She has wavy platinum blonde hair that she wears long and loose. From the neck down, she's a head-turner.

However, her face will send most men packing. She must have had a losing bout with acne when she was younger. The pockmarks stand out despite the copious amounts of base and rouge. She also tans too often. Her skin is beginning to take on the consistency of leather.

Amy sports a surgically-implanted hearing aid. You don't notice it unless she has her hair pulled back in a ponytail. She was sick as a child, and the high fever stunted her hearing development. She can read lips and hear conversation in close quarters.

Amy is a slut. I thought of putting that in nicer terms. I can't. She deserves the label. You'll see.


-A Night out with The Deaf Server-

Two days off in a row. I haven't had two days off in a row since I started working at The Restaurant. My only day off was Wednesday. Inevitably, every Wednesday morning at 9:00, I'd get a call from Valerie. It usually went something like this...

" e'lo?" me, in a raspy, confused voice.

"I need you to come in today." Valerie, ordering, not asking.

"What? No, Valerie, it's my only day off this week." I'm not about to give up my only day off. I'm already pissed that she woke me up five hours after I went to sleep.

"I need you to come in." She's not budging.

"Valerie, how many people do you have on the floor?" I'll give in if they have 6 or less. You can run a shift with five, but it's tough.

"Only ten. Need one more." You have to be kidding me.

"Bye Valerie." Click.

She did this to me almost every week since I first put on an apron. Unbelievable. But not this week. Nope. This week, I have two days off. Some new manager screwed up the schedule. Valerie is pissed, but I don't care. I deserve the time off.

A group of servers decide to make a night of it. It's me, my girlfriend, Amy, The Penguin, The Actor, and Soldato. We're going to meet at The Restaurant before heading out to a club. I hate dancing, but if I get drunk enough, I'll give it a whirl.

I'm driving my girlfriend's car to The Restaurant. She's in the passenger seat, putting on her makeup. I refuse to ride in the car while she's simultaneously putting on her makeup and weaving through traffic. I don't mind taking risks, but this is one situation that is sure to end in disaster.

"Have you ever been out with Amy before?" She asks, brushing on mascara.

"No, why? I hear she spends a lot of time on her knees in the bathrooms." I had heard this stories, but always dismissed them. Tales have a way of growing as they travel through The Restaurant's grapevine.

"Um... yeah. That's on a slow night." She's smiling mischievously. "Don't drink too much. You're going to want to remember this."

She refuses to say any more despite my increasingly insistent pleas.

We arrive at The Restaurant a few minutes later. Everyone else is already drinking.

The Penguin is wearing a purple dress. (Quick side note: We call her "The Penguin" because her body resembles that of Danny Devito as The Penguin in Batman Returns.) Tonight, she looks like Grimace from McDonald's. Hot momma!

Soldato is sporting a tight black shirt and about five pounds of gold on his neck and wrists. Vintage Italian mobster wanna-be.

My girl has on a nice top and tight low-rider jeans. I'm a happy camper.

The Actor is a homosexual dressed to the metro-sexual nines. Eighty dollar T-shirt, 400 dollar jeans.

I'm in jeans and nice polo. Still haven't lost my college fat yet, so I'm avoiding the tight tees for now.

Amy takes the cake. She's wearing a tube top that leaves very little, if anything, to the imagination. I can't tell if it's a tube top or a neck warmer that she's stretched out. It leaves everything exposed except the bottom 3/5 of her breasts. She's also wearing a mini-skirt. I get the distinct feeling that she's on the prowl.

We sit down and have a few beers. Valerie stops by our booth.

"I need to talk to you," she says to The Actor. He gets up and they move to the bar for some more privacy. Valerie didn't even so much as nod to the rest of us.

"Well, how about one more drink and we go?" I want to get out of here before Valerie tries to strap an apron on me.

"OK. Do you guys all know how to get there?" Amy asks. The club is about fifteen minutes away. Hop on the expressway, take the third exit, hang a right, and look for the shining lights.
Nothing too complicated.

Regardless, The Penguin insists on following Amy. I have a feeling The Penguin got ditched a lot in middle school.

"Hey Actor, we're ready to go!" Amy shouts. The Actor looks up, then resumes his conversation. I get up and head to the bathroom. Time to break the seal. A commotion at the bar slows me down.

"What the hell?!" The Actor is surprised. "Oh my God." The Actor sounds like he's going to puke.

I stop, wondering if I can wait a minute for my bathroom break.

"You disgusting bitch! I can't believe you just did that." The Actor has run behind the bar. He is washing his hands furiously. The Penguin and my girlfriend are looking on in disgust. Soldato is laughing hysterically. Amy is sitting in the same spot, looking impatient.

"What happened?" Soldato is closest, so I ask him. Unable to stifle his guffaws, he points at the floor near where The Actor was standing.

There's a used tampon laying on the floor.

"Did she just throw that at him?" Soldato is near tears. He nods.

"Did it hit him?" Another nod.

"Where did she..." I trail off, thinking of the miniskirt. I'm glad I missed this one. I run to the bathroom knowing I have to pee, wondering if I have to puke.

When I return to the bar area, The Actor is gone. Everyone else is in varying stages of putting on the winter coats, hats, gloves, and scarves.

"What happened?" I ask the group.

"He left," replies Amy. "You ready to go?"

Not wanting to have a tampon flung in my direction, I nod and head out the door carrying my coat.

***

The club is noisy, smoky, and filled to the brim with hormones and sexual tension. Oversized speakers spit out techno, drum and bass, and house music. Thump Thump Thump...thumpthump.. Thump Thump Thump.... How can I not dance?

We've lost The Actor, who I presume left to get to the nearest bio-hazard containment unit, but the rest of the crew made it to the club. Upon arrival, Soldato immediately headed towards the pool tables in the back. (Hustling pool is one of Soldato's lucrative side businesses.)

Soon the woman and I are dancing, oblivious to everything else. We quickly loose track of The Penguin and Amy.

After a while, we take a break. Heading to the bar, I catch sight of The Penguin. She's making out in the corner. I nudge my girlfriend.

She stares, open-mouthed. "It reminds me of that Discovery Channel show about anacondas. You know how they dislocate their jaw to eat their prey?" Hopefully The Penguin ate before she went out, or the poor guy will be in trouble.

Smiling and laughing, we grab a couple beers and sit down to watch the commotion on the dance floor. Sometimes watching people is the best form of entertainment.

One guy, obviously in the bag, hits on half a dozen girls before he finally convinces one to dance. Once on the floor, he promptly falls flat on his face. Undeterred, he keeps gyrating, holding a hand to the swelling on his forehead.

The cocktail waitresses weave in and out of the crowd, fake smiles plastered on their faces. They dish out shots in neon test-tubes, charging six bucks a pop.

There's a commotion at the far end of the dance floor. Cheers and jeers alternately arise from the group. The woman and I are about to head over when Soldato shows up out of nowhere.

"Dude, it's time to go." He casts a worried glance over his shoulder. Towards the pool room.

Uh-oh. It's likely that someone has taken exception to losing to Soldato by one ball... again. Soldato never learned that you can sheer a sheep many times, but you can skin it only once. When Soldato says it's time to leave, it's time to strap on the boots and find the nearest exit.

"OK, let's get out of here. Where's Amy?"

Grimace looks as though she's found her late-night meal, so we'll leave her here.

"I think I know," my girlfriend says. She points to the noisy crowd in the corner.

Sure enough, I can see a platinum blonde head bouncing in time to the music. Great.

Crossing the dance floor, we make a beeline to Amy. When we get closer, we see that she's in the center of a group of guys. A great number have pulled down their pants. Amy is judging each man's member with either a thumbs up or a thumbs down. So that's what all the cheers and jeers were about.

My girlfriend shoots into the group, grabs Amy's hand, and pulls her away. There is a collective groan from the inebriated circle.

They make their way back to us, Amy wild-eyed and fiery, my girlfriend mildly annoyed. We start towards the entrance, only to see an angry-looking bouncer heading our way. Changing course, we leave through a side exit.

***

We head to a 3 am bar. We're regulars here. Soldato sets up shop at the pool tables in the back. Amy, my girlfriend, and I settle into a booth.

"So, Amy, what was that all about?" I have to know why she was holding a penis judging contest in the middle of a crowded club.

"I got bored," is her reply. Fair enough, I suppose.

A few drinks later and we're laughing. Interesting night, one that is sure to live on in annals of The Restaurant lore for years to come. Amazingly, it isn't over.

A man walks over and taps Amy on the shoulder.

"Remember me?" big smile. The guy has on more gold than Soldato. He's wearing a silk collared shirt with more than a few buttons undone. He looks like he just stepped out of a South Beach porn shoot.

"No," is Amy's curt reply.

"From the bathroom? About two weeks ago?" Oh my God, the stories are true.

"Oh yeah! How are you?" Amy crosses her arms in front of her, leaning forward to accent her cleavage. She bats her eyes at the AO, who is openly staring at her chest. Dear God, this woman has no shame.

"Fine... want to get out of here?" He's smiling like the Cheshire Cat.

Amy doesn't even reply. She just gets up and leaves, waving over her shoulder. I guess that's all you need to do to pick up The Deaf Server.

The girlfriend looks at me. "Are you OK?" she asks.

"I think so. I can't believe she just left with that guy. Although, I'm still trying to process that she was in a circle of guys holding an impromptu...." I trail off, shaking my head.

"Don't forget the tampon," is my girlfriend's reply.

"How could I? Disgusting. Hey, you want to get out of here? I've had enough excitement for one night." I'm drained, both physically and psychologically.

"Sure. I'll drive." What a sweetheart.

Making sure Soldato can get a ride home (he's had a few DUI's, so he doesn't drive anymore), we head out the door.

As we get to the car, I ask, "Is that the wildest night you've had with Amy or what?"

She looks at me and smiles.

"Not even close."

11 comments:

Anonymous said...

whoo-hoo! another post...yay!!
Did your girlfriend tell you about her wildest night with Amy?
And will you be sharing it with us?
That tampon thing was DISGUSTING, bty.
Keep the stories coming!! :)
PS Hope you had a great birthday!

Anonymous said...

Great story- well worth the wait! Thanks for sharing- we'll keep reading! I hope you had a happy bday!

Nattie said...

Glad I wasn't eating when I read the tampon thing, but otherwise very amusing :) Keep it up!

The Server said...

Yeah. The tampon thing was quite possibly the most disgusting thing I've ever witnessed.

The woman did tell me about her wildest experience with Amy. If she decides to start a blog, I'll let her tell that story. I will, however, let you all in on one nuggett... the night ended with Amy in the center of yet another crowd, except this time she was spread-eagled across the handlebars of a biker's Harley.

Norman said...

Hey! I've surfed in from WaiterRant. Glad to see you guys are on equal footing entertainment-wise. I'll be sure to come back. Mind if I blog-roll you?

So - the tampon story grossed me out. I then got a visual: If she didn't mind pulling it out in public - did she cram one back in publicly as well? eewwww!! Never in my drunken days did I do something like that!

And the teaser about the handlebars of the Harley?? You gonna spill the beans??!!

norman

cassafrass said...

oh man alive... that sounds like a crazy night. how does a person end up in situations like that??

Becky said...

Oh, Ew! Amy sounds like a piece of work. But a great story though. What's up next? :-)

Anonymous said...

Keep 'em coming!
Great stories and you tell them really well.
I prefer your blog to Waiterrant.
Thanx!

Anonymous said...

"(he's had a few DUI's, so he doesn't drive anymore),"

sounds like alot of DUI's going on; i lost count of the times you've jumped into a car with more than a few in you...or the driver.

i'm not against having fun, but i think being responsible is a really important aspect of, well, not dying. (or killing anyone)...

:)
good blog BTW.

christopher said...

i lost your blog address, remembered you've been linked by waiterrant (which i'd never been to) Googled it, found the link to your site, and perused his. It's really quite good. with LOTS of archives, so I'll have something to fill my time between your posts.
and I don't know if it is just me, but I missed something in this story regarding the tampon. why did he have a tampon thrown at him? I'm confused...

The Server said...

Glad you're back, christopher. The Actor was, in Amy's opinion, taking too long. She got bored, then threw a tantrum like a little kid... only in a grown up way. Hope that answers your question. Good stuff over there on waiter rant. He's the one who inspired me in the first place. You should also check out Opinionistas (for high brow, excellent writing) and Insane Waiter (for low brow, scathing remarks).

The Server