29. Since Then
My dad is kind of a drunk. A rich drunk. We were out at an extremely nice restaurant in our small town, a very foodie and chic place that had only been open for a couple of years and had since become my favorite restaurant. I was sitting at a table with my siblings and cousins (all of us college-age), while my dad was sitting with my aunt and uncle and mom at a table nearby. By the time we get our food, the parents are still sitting there chugging their wine with no food. My dad starts getting upset. I hear him call the waitress over. She brings them some bread and leaves them alone. We finish our meals and our parents are still sitting there without food and several empty bottles of wine. My mom is essentially falling asleep at this point. My father, furious, starts banging his fists on the table, shaking all of the silverware. The waitress goes into the kitchen to find the chef, but she is apparently taking too long. My dad storms into the kitchen. I hear him SCREAMING at the top of his lungs like a f*cking toddler. The chef calmly, and politely walks him back to his table. He sits him down and, in the calmest voice possible, says, “F*ck you, sir. Now, get out of my restaurant.” We have not been back since.