Just A Swingin'

Thanks everyone, for the well wishes. I'm feeling much better. Justin is sick, now, but hopefully, he'll be over it soon. Now- how my weekend really started.

While I was working on Friday night, my stomach started hurting and wasn't getting better. I needed to throw up, but I just couldn't do it. Not with automatic flushers on the toilets. Not with all kinds of strangers, using those toilets. Nope, I just couldn't. So, my stomach ache didn't get any better. In fact, it got worse and worse.

Around 8:30, I thought I was going to D.I.E. Every time I went to a table, I knew there was the chance that I was going to vomit on them. Not good. Another table was seated in my section. Since it was only 2 people, and they seemed like nice, normal people, I decided to take care of them, then ask to go home.

Everything went well. I hunched over in pain, one time, but they didn't seem to notice. They didn't need much, so I was able to go sit in the cooler, in a futile attempt to feel better.

After they paid, I was walking in his direction. He got super, uncomfortably close to me, touched my stomach, and told me that there was a note for me under the credit slip. Whatever, I thought, probably just another one telling me that I was a great server and to have a great weekend.

Not. Quite.



I scratched out the name and number, but it probably wouldn't have mattered. They probably would have appreciated a call, because I sure wasn't going to do it!

Which brings me to this. . . why me?!? Did I give off a swinger-type vibe? Was it my slightly green skin color? Was it my continuous swallowing, trying to keep the vomit down?

And, now that I think about it. . . they didn't really look like what I thought swingers looked like. He wasn't sporting a 70's porn star moustache and gold pinky ring. She wasn't wearing a scandalous top with fake boobs hanging out and super tight polyester pants. Illusions were shattered. Swingers could be everywhere, dressed like normal people, and I would never know it!!!

I wondered what the proper etiquette was. Should I text her and tell her that I wasn't interested? Should I call and let them know that I'm not down wit' dat? I considered letting Justin call, but then thought that they might invite him to come along. What to do. . . what to do.

By the time I made it home, I was way too sick to even think about what I should do about it. Other than show Justin and let him laugh.

I probably would have done the courtesy call, though, if they had actually tipped over 15%. You tip under 15%, I'm not calling, much less participating in a swingin' 3-way booty call.