But it sure was a memorable restaurant experience.
So there we were, perusing the menu filled with scallops and crab and shrimp galore when all of a sudden I heard the gal behind me practically yell, "WE ARE NOT GOING TO TALK ABOUT THIS!"
Whoa. I almost dropped my cheddar bay biscuit.
I wanted to turn around and see where this outburst came from but since their corner booth was the only one directly behind ours, it would have been a little too obvious. So instead, I chewed slowly and waited for the reply.
I don't think it's really considered eavesdropping if you can't help but overhear. Right? Although the guy was a few decibels lower, I could still hear plain as day, "Fine. We'll just talk about it later."
Then silence. I leaned over our own table and whispered something along the lines of: I hope that isn't a first date behind us because I don't think there will be a second. But then we went back to the important decisions in our lives: choosing between the most delicious broccoli on the planet or the wild rice pilaf as our sides. Some decisions really require a lot of focus. The wrong side item can really upset your Crabfest mojo. And after spending the previous week and a half with a stuffy nose and sore throat, I was ready to taste everything!
And it seemed like things really quieted down behind us by the time our salads arrived. But then, another booming conversation.
Man: "The New York Times said my show was BLEEPING AWESOME."
And then he went on to say how bleeping awesome it was and how everyone thought is was awesome. Awesome, awesome. And more awesome. And people loved it. Everybody loved it. LOVED. LOVED. LOVED IT. AWESOME.
As someone who also has a show, I perked up again. Who is this guy? What show is he talking about? And why is he SO INCREDIBLY LOUD? And is he purposely saying the word "bleeping" to edit himself for public consumption since he is practically screaming throughout the restaurant? Or did the NY Times bleep themselves out with the actual word "bleeping"?
That inner dialogue happened like rapid fire through my mind during the chewing of my 4th cheddar bay biscuit.
And then I thought some more: In all reality, someone with a Bleeping Awesome show doesn't go around saying how Bleeping Awesome their show is all the time. Someone with the sheer awesomeness that he thinks he possesses would just know that people already knew of his legendary awesome status. You wouldn't need to brag about it. It's pretty much the same way with social media. The people who constantly have to gush about how great their job is, how wonderful their marriage is, how great they are at parenting, or how Bleeping Awesome their life is are probably just trying to convince themselves. If you were content and happy, you wouldn't need to do that.
I was snapped out of my trance by the waitress and my friend both staring at me. They looked genuinely concerned for my sanity. How long had they been waiting on me? Oops. "Um....Yes, I would like more water. And yes, another refill of biscuits." Clearly, four mounds of cheddary garlicky goodness were not enough already.
When the waitress left, I tried to whisper/explain my zone-out to my friend but then was interrupted again by the foghorns behind us.
Man: "And what's with the Packers? Why does everyone's life revolve around them?"
Ok, so Mr. Bleeping Awesome is clearly not from Green Bay. But neither am I and I totally get it.
Woman (now in more of a hushed voice): "I don't know. They are the Packers. We just... People just love them."
Ok, so she's from here and he's not. But dude, it's football! Obviously he does not have a sports show. If he really even has a show at all. And at this point, I was highly doubting that he did. Heck, my show isn't even a sports show but what's not to understand here? I grew up in Northeast Ohio where on game day, you were doing 1 of 3 things:
A. At a Browns or Buckeyes game
B. Watching a Browns or Buckeyes game on TV
C. Wishing you were at or watching a Browns or Buckeyes game.
Before I could get my brain wrapped around that mind explosion, our crab legs arrived. I love football and seafood, almost equally. So I shifted my thoughts quickly back to our table of food.
And they were quiet for awhile, too. Until the next announcement blared from behind me.
Man: "By the end of the year, I'd like to trade in the Ferrari on a Lamborghini. You can see if you like driving that. Or, you know what else? [I couldn't make out what name was dropped here] has a real nice car, too. You ever hear of a Pontiac Sunfire?"
At this point, I dropped cheddar bay biscuit #6 right on the floor. It literally fell right out of my mouth. Did this guy really just shout about Ferraris and Lamborghinis and Sunfires all in the same sentence? I don't really know the first thing about cars, but I know enough to realize something seemed a bit off with that whole scenario. And if someone was cruising around in a Ferrari, are they really dining at Red Lobster? No offense to the seafood chain because I would eat there every day if I could, but Mr. Bleeping Awesome Ferrari Man With A Show surely would not lower himself to dine with us commoners who get excited about their upcoming All-You-Can-Eat-Shrimp promotion and endless cheddar bay biscuits. Have I mentioned I love their biscuits?
I should have just thrown biscuit #7 and #8 right onto the floor because I literally choked on my next bite when he announced: "You can get some new boobs if you want."
WHAT?! WHAT?!?!?! Did he really just loudly say, "You can get some new boobs?" Yup. Yup, he sure did. My friend who was picking up all my floored biscuits confirmed it.
Followed by this, slightly quieter exchange:
Man: "You do have insurance, right?"
Man: "What? Like Obamacare?"
Man: "What do you mean? What kind of insurance?"
Woman: "I don't know, health insurance."
Man: "What kind? Does the hotel give it to you? What about cancer? Is that covered?"
Woman (clearly wanting him to shut up): "I'm sure it is."
Man (clearly not getting her message): "Well, what happens if you get it?"
Woman: "Well, I don't plan on getting cancer."
But don't worry, little lady. If you plan on some new boobs, your dinner mate is cool with that.
I couldn't believe it. This may have been the oddest dinner conversation that I've ever overheard in my entire life. And I still hadn't seen what these people looked like. So as we stood up to leave, I did the 'ol stand and fumble in your purse trick to buy myself some time to properly scope out the situation.
Verdict: She looked normal. Way too normal to be with the likes of this type of guy. Him? He had his jet black longish hair all feathered back. Buttoned down shirt unbuttoned so that his chest could be dramatically exposed. After all, he's Bleeping Awesome. Why wouldn't the entire restaurant swoon over his every word shouted to them? And apparently bleeping awesome people expose their chests and drive Ferraris or Sunfires (as both are equally acceptable).
As we exited the restaurant past the lobster tank, I felt like we really got a deal. We had dinner and a show. Of course, the restaurant only provided the meal. The side show was on the house.
And this isn't the first time (but it's definitely the most crazy time) that I've had the pleasure of eavesdropping in public. To the person who's screaming into their cell phone in the grocery store aisle or yelling at their kids in a tiny waiting room: We can ALL hear you! Literally. Loud And Clear. We can hear your every word. So maybe save some of your boob-job talk for your own private time. Like in your Ferarri. Or your Sunfire.