Lunching at the Zoo

My girlfriend M. and I finally got to meet for lunch the other day. It was a high-end restaurant, with linens on the table and a wine list. It served Mexican food, called itself a cantina, and invested in minimalist decor, with unfortunately, slate flooring and no carpeting or window treatments to absorb the noise, so the sound level was high.

We were seated at a booth, which I like b/c they are more comfortable and apt to be less noisy. But behind us were four of the noisiest people I've ever heard in a restaurant. I was facing them, and I have to admit, they were so obnoxious it was distracting, and I found myself become rather absorbed in studying them.

First of all, it was only noon and they were totally pie-eyed (pissed, to the uninitiated). Two very large frozen margaritas glistened in front of each plate, and they had obviously gone through a third since removed from the table. M and I couldn't drink that day for different reasons, and we both admitted it was a shame. If nothing else, it would've softened their arrogance factor in believing their yelling and screaming across the table didn't bother any other customers in the place. Secondly, the bottle-blonde in their midst had a habit of cocking her head back, showing the world her enormous white choppers, and braying -- I swear, she could've given our dear departed burro, Pompeii, a run for his money. When she brayed, the other three in the group chittered nervously along, a high-pitched vigorous chacahcahiiii-noise, like a group of monkeys might make. Third, they appeared to be playing a game of Round-Robin. They'd pile out of the booth, straighten their clothes and chat animatedly long enough for one to assume they were finally leaving, and then scramble back into the booth, each then sitting in a different spot than before. Maybe it was a new drinking game...or a speed-dating practice or something.

Between the braying and the chittering, it was difficult to hold a conversation. Finally we halfway gave up and ate lunch. Fortunately, we are old enough friends that it didn't matter so much to eat in near-silence, occasionally glancing back at the zoo group. The waiter took pity on us and we left with an extra bag of delicious chips and salsa.