We were busy tonight.

Summer busy.

We did the same number of covers we’d do inside in the summer. Only they were mostly 2-tops. 76 of them to be exact.

Every deuce had a 90 minute turn.

And we were booked all the way up till close.

We did have many people show up without a reservation. We squeezed them in when we could.

So I was not surprised when at 5:45 three women walked into to the lobby without a reservation.

I recognized one of the womn from previous visits but I couldn’t tell you her name.

She comes up to the desk and says she and her friends are there for drinks and snacks.

At this point we’ve sat out complete first turn. The dining room is cranking.

We are full.

I explain that I won’t have anything free till 8:30.

She clearly doesn’t like this.

How about at the bar?

The empty stools are for a 6:30 reservation.

A table?

8:30.

She is rambling. And I’m becoming more aware that she and her friends are probably on their fourth or fifth drink at this point.

They are drunk.

They continue to push.

Can we go to the bar and then sit in the lobby. At the couch. Over there. Over here.

I’ve now decided they aren’t staying.

Even if something miraculously opens the answer is no.

Turns out two of the friends are visiting from Houston.

So finally the woman from here, asks if she can at least show her friends around.

I say of course.

The phone rings. I answer. She goes into the dining room.

I get off the phone and realize one of the friends has stayed behind.

She then drunkenly launches into a conservative tirade about how Portland is a shit hole. They pay homeless people to be homeless. We build high rise after high rise for the poor just like San Francisco. We give drugs to addicts on the street. And the city is festering with crime. (None of this is an exaggeration. She’s talking to my other host and I’m taking notes).

She then turns and says to me, hey look they are talking to the chef.

I realize the other two are standing at the food pass chatting with the chef.

Uh oh.

We are in the middle of the turn. He is fucking busy.

I head toward the pass and interrupt.

I hear him say you’ll need to check with him, meaning me.

They turn to me and say he says we can sit on the couch.

I say, you wait in the lobby and I’ll see what I can do.

I explain after they walk away that they are hammered and not getting served.

I go back to the lobby, prepared to shut the whole conversation down with your drunk I can’t serve you.

Instead i told them no one more time and they left.

I find out later that they’d slowed the whole kitchen down because new orders couldn’t be called while they were there.

Chef was being nice to them as he got farther and farther in the weeds.

Seriously.