So there we were last night, at City Crab, with two new friends - well, new to me, old friends of My Guy's. Delightful people, down to earth, funny and had no problem swearing within 20 minutes of meeting each other. I liked them instantly.
We ordered dinner (where I was told that my choice of steak was the better over the chicken, only to be told that there was one steak left - wasn't I lucky - and then promptly told he'd made a mistake the steak was gone - did I mind chicken - and then revisited three minutes later to be informed that there'd been a miscommunication and that I'd be getting my steak - yeah whatever waiter guy, just bring the damn food I'm hungry already). G got up and needed to go to the bathroom, but returned in 30 seconds because the bathroom was out of TP. She'd stopped by the server station and informed our waiter.
The waiter stopped by our table with two rolls of toilet paper saying, "Would you mind taking these in...because, you know, heh heh, I can't really take them in there."
Umm, are the 10-odd girlish looking chicas also dressed in black wearing the long aprons taking orders trannies? And even if they are, couldn't they "pass" long enough to deposit some Charmin in the ladies?!
G was a champ. She just grabbed those rolls laughing, held them high over her head and shook them like cheerleader pom poms all the way to the back of the restaurant. I think I love her.
Not City Crab's can.