The Disgruntled Pasta Whale

First off, allow me to preface this post by saying I realize I am no dainty thing in peril of being blown away by a stiff gust of wind on any given day. HOWEVER, I do possess basic courtesy and etiquette skills when it comes to dining out in public, regardless of the "level" of the establishment. i.e. everyday-type-place vs. foo-foo-type-place. In addition, even though I'm pretty much a judgemental asshole, I do have my limitations and would never make fun of someone who's handicapped (most of the time, it really depends on the situation), down-and-out or overweight, since I, myself am "big boned." HOWEVER, when you're a fat jackass, you make the conscious choice to release the floodgates and no longer have my empathy as your refuge. Let's proceed, shall we?

I recently had a hankerin' for the delicious pizza of the nearby Nizza Pizza, who I've mentioned in past posts. When I got there to order, the place was packed (as usual...they really do have the best pizza in town), so I knew I was gonna have to wait, which was no big deal since I'd had the forethought to buy a newspaper. I placed my order and was told it would be about 20 minutes, so with all the normal waiting area seating filled to copacity (benches), I asked a man seated at one of the tables, who appeared to be waiting for his to-go-order also, if he minded if I sat at the same table. He said no. I take a seat and one of the waitresses immediately comes over and offers me something to drink while I wait, so I get some water.

Meanwhile, seated directly behind me is a landmass family of three, apparently waiting for their food to arrive. I begin to read my newspaper and soon thereafter the waitress comes by with their food. Hippo Mullet (shown) immediately says something about the wait and the waitress apologizes and explains that all the ovens are full, thus the wait (which I suspect probably wasn't that long, knowing how long the wait normally is). The woman literally grunts and the waitress leaves them to consume.

So, being me, I eavesdrop while reading, but there is such a din in the filled room, that I can't really pinpoint what exactly they're saying, but it's obvious she's still mooing about the penne pasta dish she ordered. Whatever the problem, it must not have been too bad, considering the frantic sounds of fork scraping against empty dish. Go for the gusto, Nicholas Nickleby.

So, the waitress comes by in a little while to see how everything is, and Orca with a mullet says in this lackluster/unimpressed voice "It's okay," to which the waitress asks if there's a problem with the food and the woman (get a load of this) complains about the size of the portion. WHAT?! To this I wanna say "Yeah, whatever, Tiny. Would you like another trough of garlic bread? We were all outta wok-sized serving bowls, okay?" The waitress apologizes, kinda stammers and says that they have set portion sizes that the cooks go by, but the woman continues to grumble about how unusually small the portion was. Shyeah, I think "portion size" may be part of your problem there Bullwinkle.

The waitress apologizes again and goes to get their drink refills. When she returns she asks if anyone wants dessert and when everyone says 'no,' I almost let out a "HA!," but manage to contain myself. THEN, though the food was merely "okay," they request take-home containers. Hmmm. Mysterious, huh? Why would you want to take home food that was merely "okay?" P.s. They didn't leave a tip either. Like it's the waitresse's fault Tugboat Annie didn't get full. Whatever.

Ech. Fuckin' donkey families piss me off.