My OperaBack in the restaurant again.
Wednesday, January 24, 2007 1:19:50 AM
In this family we have a saying, "Back in the restaurant again." It refers to finding yourself back where you didn't want to be, a situation which often happens to me when I'm out driving, and is based upon an old comedy routine we heard on the radio in which the comic is trying on a pair of ultra slim tiger-striped swimming trunks and goes though the wrong door, only to find himself in the restraurant on the wrong side of a one-way door. As you've no doubt guessed, at the end of the routine our hero makes it back to the changing rooms and flings himself through the door and... "I was back... in the restaurant... again!". For no explicable reason we decided to importalise this routine by utilizing the punchline as a catchphrase.
I just thought I'd tell you that to explain the title of this piece.
Today I decided to celebrate mum's car passing it's MoT and the fact that it was a rather nice, crisp day (If a bit on the nuts-twingingly cold side...), by going for a drive to do some shopping somewhere outside town. After about 20 miles we came across a branch of Morrisons, not so surprisingly really since I knew it was there, and in we went for some eats to get mum's strength up ready for shopping.
While waiting for the meal to arrive I supped my cup of tea, which seemed a little strong somehow. Upon investigation it turned out to have two teabags in it. Now I don't know if it was the extra strong tea, or the long drive, or the cold, or any combination of the three, but I suddenly got that urge to go and have a pee. Not that faint twinge that tells you that at some point you may need a visit, the one that says "Go now or I'll trickle down your leg and really embarrass you."
I hate being embarrassed, so up I got and trotted along to the gents where, having relieved myself I went to wash my hands in their new-fangled automatic holes in the wall. I stuck my hands in the first one. nothing happened. I wiggled them around a bit. No luck. I stuck my head in and looked for some kind of switch. Nothing doing. So I moved to the next one, which, with a little coaxing, finally sprang into life.
Suddenly the door crashed open and a guy in a yellow reflective jacket almost threw himself at the other wash-hole. He wiggled his hands around, he felt, he twisted, he prodded, I swear he even tweaked a little, and suddenly the water came on. He tested it for a second and then shook his hands and walked out. at which point I became a man obsessed. Where was the camera?
There could be no other explanation. Someone had seen my struggle with the washeroonie and sent a man-what-tweaks to look at it. I could only see one place where there could possibly be a camera that could catch me at the wash basin, so I did the old comedy shoft-shoe-shuffle-with-the-invisible-hat as I passed it on the way out and felt really clever. Then I seized the handle to leave.
It was wet.
Aaaauuugh!!! I know the guy who touched it hadn't done anything other than get his hands wet, but touching a wet door on the way out of a loo turns my stomach. Gingerly I inched the door open with my foot and fingers and then exited, furiously wiping my hands on my jeans as I went.
Someone laughed as I stepped back into the store, I was convinced they were laughing at me, these fiendish toilet camera watching security scum of the Earth people. There was nothing I could do. Well, except maybe...
I clenched my fists, yawned, stretched my arms in the air and raised two fingers for a fleeting moment before scratching my nose with them.
That showed them.
Or it would have if I'd have left it there, but for some reason which I am never going to be able to explain, I then did the old comedy soft-shoe-shuffle-with-the-invisible-hat.
Again.
In front of a row of people queueing up to buy their grits and groceries.
This was verging on being more embarrassing than peeing in the resaurant.
I rounded the corner and suddenly found myself confronted by a roomful of disinterest people who had no idea I was the quickstep champion of Morrisons. I snapped back into my usual, casual yet enticing, gait.
I've never been so glad to be back in the restuarant again.
I just thought I'd tell you that to explain the title of this piece.
Today I decided to celebrate mum's car passing it's MoT and the fact that it was a rather nice, crisp day (If a bit on the nuts-twingingly cold side...), by going for a drive to do some shopping somewhere outside town. After about 20 miles we came across a branch of Morrisons, not so surprisingly really since I knew it was there, and in we went for some eats to get mum's strength up ready for shopping.
While waiting for the meal to arrive I supped my cup of tea, which seemed a little strong somehow. Upon investigation it turned out to have two teabags in it. Now I don't know if it was the extra strong tea, or the long drive, or the cold, or any combination of the three, but I suddenly got that urge to go and have a pee. Not that faint twinge that tells you that at some point you may need a visit, the one that says "Go now or I'll trickle down your leg and really embarrass you."
I hate being embarrassed, so up I got and trotted along to the gents where, having relieved myself I went to wash my hands in their new-fangled automatic holes in the wall. I stuck my hands in the first one. nothing happened. I wiggled them around a bit. No luck. I stuck my head in and looked for some kind of switch. Nothing doing. So I moved to the next one, which, with a little coaxing, finally sprang into life.
Suddenly the door crashed open and a guy in a yellow reflective jacket almost threw himself at the other wash-hole. He wiggled his hands around, he felt, he twisted, he prodded, I swear he even tweaked a little, and suddenly the water came on. He tested it for a second and then shook his hands and walked out. at which point I became a man obsessed. Where was the camera?
There could be no other explanation. Someone had seen my struggle with the washeroonie and sent a man-what-tweaks to look at it. I could only see one place where there could possibly be a camera that could catch me at the wash basin, so I did the old comedy shoft-shoe-shuffle-with-the-invisible-hat as I passed it on the way out and felt really clever. Then I seized the handle to leave.
It was wet.
Aaaauuugh!!! I know the guy who touched it hadn't done anything other than get his hands wet, but touching a wet door on the way out of a loo turns my stomach. Gingerly I inched the door open with my foot and fingers and then exited, furiously wiping my hands on my jeans as I went.
Someone laughed as I stepped back into the store, I was convinced they were laughing at me, these fiendish toilet camera watching security scum of the Earth people. There was nothing I could do. Well, except maybe...
I clenched my fists, yawned, stretched my arms in the air and raised two fingers for a fleeting moment before scratching my nose with them.
That showed them.
Or it would have if I'd have left it there, but for some reason which I am never going to be able to explain, I then did the old comedy soft-shoe-shuffle-with-the-invisible-hat.
Again.
In front of a row of people queueing up to buy their grits and groceries.
This was verging on being more embarrassing than peeing in the resaurant.
I rounded the corner and suddenly found myself confronted by a roomful of disinterest people who had no idea I was the quickstep champion of Morrisons. I snapped back into my usual, casual yet enticing, gait.
I've never been so glad to be back in the restuarant again.
