War Story Wednesday! MAW Style....

I'm going to steal WSW for myself today but I feel that is my prerogative since it is my blog, after all. I have had this story waiting in the wings for quite some time and it is time for it to be let out into the open! BWA-HAHA!

Back in the day when I was a young, innocent child I had a waitressing job in a (very) local restaurant. Not only was it known for it's questionable managerial style but it was known for bringing in a varied and somewhat seedy crowd. Clearly, a nice and wholesome place for a nubile young girl to work....

One evening I was waiting on a table of one man and his flock of three ladies. They made no attempt to hide the fact that this was most definitely a date with a one way ticket to some kinda funky bedroom action. Yikes! Anyway, I minded my own business, brought them their food and tried to stay away because their promiscuity was frightening to my impressionable young eyes. (ooooh kay. maybe I wasn't quite as naive as that. but still people, really?)

As they all languished around, pawing at one another and getting their drink on the man beckoned to me to come over. I was somewhat terrified, imagining that he was going to ask me to join in the (ahem) fun. Thankfully he just wanted to let me know that he was a psychic! And would I like a display of his powers?? I took a look around to see who would have my back if this was some sort of nasty trick. Seeing that the manager was nowhere in sight and that the bartender was getting loaded with some locals I tried to politely get the eff out. He wasn't hearing of it and told me that he was going to use his mental prowess to discover what color toenail polish I had on. Relieved that his intentions seemed pure I told him to go ahead and give it his best creepy guess.

He made a big show of closing his eyes, pretending to draw power from the universe and all kinds of wacky BS. His harem oooohd and ahhed and giggled to each other, very impressed with their boyfriend's skills. Nonplussed I eyed the spectacle with growing doubt. Suddenly, his eyes snapped open and he gestured towards my clog clad feet. "PURPLE" he shouted "WITH SPARKLES!" Aghast I exclaimed that this was indeed true, and that I was duly impressed and had noted his one life skill as being legit. "Take off you shoe!" the girls exclaimed squealing in ecstasy "we want to see! we want to see that it is true!" Since there were no rules in this restaurant pertaining to the removal of one's shoe. I kicked off the clog and showed my purple hued toes to the salivating and scantily clad pussycat doll wannabees.

And then the unimaginable happened. Like a flash Mr. Creeper reached out and grabbed my foot (like, off the floor) and..... Bit it. With his teeth. My foot, in his mouth. Agog, I tottered on one foot and tried to repossess my appendage (lucky for him this happened before I developed cat like reflexes, as now I would smartly kick him in the teeth. And then in the junk.) Just when I did not things could possibly ever get any worse he stuck out his nasty tongue and licked the bottom of my foot. Which had been in a smelly, sweaty, dishwater soaked clog for no less than six hours. No really, he did! My horror was immense because not only was this a disgusting display but I have very serious issues with anyone touching my feet. I have to get a beer before I get a pedicure so that I can make a good show of trying to like the experience (I don't. But sometimes the toes have to look good!) All the girls burst out laughing as he freed my foot from his hairy hand, and jumped all over him in awe of his foot fetish. "Heeeey Baby" he crowed in delight "Howdja like THAT!" (not at all) I fled the scene in complete horror, dry heaving a little to myself as I ran to the relative safety of the wait station. I was completely repulsed, and refused to go back to the table choosing instead to have the rather inebriated bartender get them their check.

This was one of my all time worst experiences with a customer and it taught me to never take off any article of clothing upon request (like I have previously mentioned I was young. Full on Youth Of America, ya know? Very trusting, OK!!) The image I could not shake (along with that of my foot being bitten by nasty, nicotine stained teeth) was that of all the prancing ladies making out with Mr. Creeper, and him having a mouth full of dirty foot crud. Let's all say it together: EWWWWWW!