Not In The Brochure, Entry # 3 ~ UFDs ( Unidentified Flying Dentures )

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Back when I was still married to my ex-hasbeen (not a typo) and Cina was just a toddler, I went to work as a waitress at an all night diner. My shift was supposed to be 10 hours long but with all the details that had to be worked out before and after my shift, I was usually there for around 12 hours. My sister also worked there on the day shift.

 Some real characters decide they want food in the middle of the night. There was Two Dollar Bill, who received that nickname because he would always order a $1.00 cup of coffee and then leave a $2.00 tip. Or Movie Guy, who worked at the local theater and would always give me a tip of a $5.00 bill, folded into the shape of a boat. What made him strange is the fact that he would come by the restaurant on my nights off and leave the $5.00 boats for me to find on my return. There was Robert, a little person, who always ordered hot chocolate to go and tipped me $8.00. Once, he actually sat down and ate a burger and gave me a $20.00 tip. The worst by far, was this creepy older guy who smelled like fuel oil and would sit for hours, just watching me work. He had this raspy way of breathing that just totally made my skin crawl. He always left a .15 tip and once he smiled and asked me if I liked to suck on hard candy.  One night, he crept up behind me and ran his fingers through my hair, after I gave him a good cussing, the manager banned him.

 

 But by far, our most unusual customer was J.P. He was an older guy who came wandering in one cold night. He had no money, so we gave him free coffee and a warm meal. Soon, he was showing up every night. This man had obvious mental problems, but he was tolerable and didn't make any trouble. At first...

 

Before long, he started trying to be helpful, by clearing off tables. We waitresses would always give him a little money at the end of the night. That was fine, except for the fact that he had a bad habit of dumping whole glasses of soda into the trash can, instead of in the sink. I was constantly reminding him, " J.P., please don't pour drinks in the trash." He would assure me that he just forgot and that it wouldn't happen again. As time went on, he started getting more and more strange. If incoming customers happened to close to a table that had not been cleared yet, he would shout at them, " Get away from there! These girls work hard for their tips and you ain't stealing 'em!" Then he started talking to himself and walking around with Q-tips sticking out of his ears. We all tried talking to him, hoping to keep him from getting banned from the restaurant. This would usually straighten him out for a few days.

 

One Saturday night, I was working with my sister, who had started working some nights, and Iva Gail, a sassy little woman in her 50's, with a cute little lisp. J.P. was there as well. After the massive bar crowds had left ( drunk folks love breakfast!), we set about doing the piles of dishes and getting the place ready for inspection, when the manager arrived in a couple of hours. The waitresses were expected to do all the cleaning, except for the grill, plus do all their own dishes. The worst part was scubbing and then using a squeegie on the non-skid floor, behind the counter.

 

We all busted our butts and had the place sparkling, after an hour or so. All that was left was to take out the trash. I went behind the counter and lifted out the bag from the can. I swear, I felt my rectum pop out. That bag felt like it weighed 100 lbs.! I quickly sat it down on the non-skid floor ( the floor that I had spent ages scrubbing!). Why the heck was it so heavy? I had little time to ponder this as a hole quickly tore in the bag and it started peeing soda all over the clean floor. AHHHHH! I snapped. "J-SON-OF-A-BITCHING-P!", I shouted. Upon hearing this, Iva Gail roared laughing and when she did, her false teeth shot straight out of her mouth and across the restaurant!!! This just made her laugh even more. Heck, everyone in the restaurant was laughing. A regular, walked over to the bar and handed Iva Gail's teeth back to her. More laughter. J.P. had disappeared, like a smart man, he was hiding somewhere... 

 

Even after all the comontion over the teeth, that bag was still leaking all over the place. I grabbed it with both hands, shouted for someone to hold the back door open, and hobbled bow-legged with it, through the restaurant. Folks, including me, laughing the whole way. Suddenly, there was an ear piercing alarm going off. The manager had set the alarm on the back door before he went home! "This is just one big CHAIN REACTION!", I wailed. Laughter erupted even worse. I finally made it to the dumpster and got the bag into it. Turns out we had no key to shut off the alarm and had to wake the manager to come shut it off.

  After it was all over and we girls were off duty and eating breakfast, we were laughing so hard that our sides ached. I am sure that the breakfast crowd thought we were high or something. But, when you're that tired, you can't help it. We were still crying with laughter on our way out the door, when my sister got a strange look on her face and reached into her shirt. She pulled out her hand and was holding one of the underwires from her bra. She had laughed so hard, she broke her bra! That did it, we lost it again. We literally walked/crawled to our cars doubled over and got inside. I was riding with my sister. I noticed the interior of the car seemed stranged to me. I looked to my left and saw my sister was having trouble getting her key in the ignition. I looked out her window to the car next to us and saw Iva Gail beating the steering wheel and laughing hysterically. We had gotten into each others cars! We all bailed out and couldn't even speak as we passed each other and got into the correct vehichles. We probably sat there another 10 minutes, gaining our composure, as driving would not have been safe in that condition.

 We were all still sore the following day. Just from laughing! I guess you had to be there... But I have never laughed that hard in my life. I hope I do again, someday.

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