The story. Picture it, kids. It's 2003, and myself and my two bestest buds in the world, a picky, anal-retentive gay gentleman and his cousin, are dining at the original TGI Friday's in big bad New York City. We're on a road trip. We're stoked to be there, and we're kinda hungry.
We're seated in Friday's (THE Fridays! We couldn't get over it), and we peruse the menu. Steve, Mr. Anal Retentive, wants his usual milkshake. The guy's 24 at this point, vain as a peacock about his hair and body and clothing, but he ALWAYS orders a damned milkshake in every restaurant he sits his ass down in. Doesn't gain a pound, either.
The minutes roll past and morph into roughly ten, and finally a young woman approaches us and demands (yes, demands) in a delightful NYC yeeaccent, "I'm Asia. What do you want to drink."
Steve asks his usual question: "What kind of milkshakes do you guys have?"
Asia gives her answer with a shrug: "I dunno. Chocolate and vanilla. I guess."
"Oh...Could I have a chocolate milkshake?"
She raises her eyebrows and looks at Steve like he's sprouting a third lip and says, "Okay?"
Asia returns with the beverages, sans milkshake, which we assume is being prepared. (I have to give her credit. I can't remember, you see, if she mentioned the milkshake or not, so we'll say she did. Point for Asia. She's at zero now!)
Long story short, we sit, we wait for the food, Asia never fills up our sodas, and then finally Steve flags her down (I hate it when people flag me down, because I'm always on my way to GET what they needed in the first place. Asia, on the other hand, was not...) and timidly asks for his milkshake. The reply?
"Um. My um. Milk? shake."
"oh-KAY. I'm GETTING it."
The milkshake makes a fashionably late entrance, and Steve proceeds to enjoy it.
The food arrives, and my other buddy asks if we can get our soda refills. Asia makes no sign at having heard or cared, and moves away. Five minutes later, she slams our refills down on the table.
Without a word, and without making a grand rush about it, lemme tell you, Asia brings the check. Finally, we leave TGI Friday's and make our way out.
Don't remember what we left her.
Let me just say, in passing, that had this been anywhere but NYC, we'd probably have been stunned. However, we'd already encountered a very 'I couldn't care if you died, you shit-heads' NYPD cop in the subway, and a Metropolitan Museum guard who was such an asshole that we wouldn't have been surprised if he pulled a gun on us and shot our ankles off. We considered it all part of the 'New York Experience' and were nothing but amused by it.
In retrospect, however, it does piss me off. I bust ass to be a gadamned songbird, and I expect everyone else to do it, too. Kind of silly, but I'm slightly nuts at this point, anyway.