because of a bubble

My parents recently went to Bob Evans for dinner. The restaurants with the fancy and colorful alcoholic drinks are just too trendy for them. Bob Evans, with its country home cooking appeal is much more their speed.

My mom prefers the waffles with fruit on top and my dad has always been a biscuit and gravy fan. Once they were seated, their menus barely having been looked through since their orders have remained pretty stable for several years now, they waited for their server to come with the coffee and to take their waffle and biscuit order.

Their waiter for the evening, a young boy who was obviously new, approached their table. The boy only had two other tables, but was clearly lost in a major fog of confusion. One of his tables was speaking to the manager, pleading that he bring them the check that they had asked for over 15 minutes ago, and his other table was trying to flag down this same manager to ask for their two Diet Cokes because the boy had brought them cups of decaf coffee instead.

As the waiter stumbled over and pulled out his pad to write down my parents’ order, my mom noticed that the kid was sweating profusely…which, in and of itself, wasn’t too bad. Following closely behind the visible sweat sheen, though, was a wafting scent of body odor, which, as my mom later pointed out, wasn’t too conducive to country home cooked meals. Despite these major roadblocks in a pleasurable dining experience, my parents bravely proceeded…their love for Bob Evans being great enough to withstand the lingering aroma of B.O. and an extremely sweaty waiter.

And this love for all things Bob continued, right up until the moment that my parents both noticed that the kid was blowing major snot bubbles out of his left nostril every time he took a breath. Breathe out, snot bubble expanded. Breathe in, snot bubble retracted. The whole process looking very much like a frog with an inflated vocal sac ribbiting from inside this kid's nose. Over and over again, throughout the entire time it took him to write down their order.

It was the snot bubble that sealed the deal. Once the boy left their table, my parents stood up and quickly fled the restaurant. My mom later said that she had thought about talking to the manager…but between the table waiting for their check and the table waiting for their Diet Coke, she really didn’t feel like waiting in line to discuss snot bubbles with him.

It’s doubtful that my parents will ever eat at a Bob Evans again. Not because this boy will continue working at Bob Evans for several years to come and not because all Bob Evans servers are now required to blow snot bubbles. Instead, my dad’s favorite meal has now been ruined, forever tainted in his mind...because, as he later told me, ‘That boy’s snot bubble was the exact same color and consistency as the gravy that always comes with my biscuits…and how the hell am I supposed to enjoy them with that image stuck in my mind?!’

Sadly, my parents now have to find a new favorite restaurant. All because of one boy’s snot bubble.