There are things I really, really love about living in a college town. We have a variety of delicious foods, for one thing. And music and arts and stuff like that. Also, college students are shiny and happy and young and peppy, and most of the time that makes for a pleasant day, what with all of that exuberant youth around.
Sure, I’m going to go off, occasionally, on the preponderance of flip-flops or on whether or not it’s TRULY necessary for you to be staggering around drunk when I am merely trying to take my kids out for a bowl of noodles or about how SOME THINGS ARE BEST LEFT TO THE IMAGINATION (and by “some things” I mean “your breasts,” young lady, so try PUTTING ON SOME CLOTHES), but in general it makes me happy to be somewhere like this.
Last night I remembered why sometimes it’s not ALL good.
Our at-home options for dinner last night were a box of macaroni and cheese or half a cup of potato salad leftover from earlier in the week. I was out playing Mom’s Taxi Service, schlepping the kids to and fro, and decided to stop at a popular hole-in-the-wall Mexican place to pick up dinner.
[Digression, except not really: Although Otto and I joke about how we end up going to the grocery store every other day due to poor planning, we eat take-out very rarely. I could probably count on one hand the number of weekday meals that haven’t been cooked at home since moving here. But what with the big storm and all, and then the fact that I figured the stores would still be wiped out from all of the crazed shoppers the day before, I hadn’t replenished our supplies yet.]
So. The kids and I walked into the joint. (Not jail, just this little… oh, stop it, YOU KNOW WHAT I MEANT.) I asked them what they wanted, and decided what to get for myself and Otto, and went up to order.
Here’s where it all went terribly wrong. Said establishment was blasting some rock music from somewhere back in the kitchen, and the nice college student who took my order had a terminal case of MUMBLEMOUTH.
Me: We’ll have a chicken quesadilla, a cheese quesadilla, and two chicken Baja burritos, please.
Him: hskgg sgewrh ksjsg
Me: I’m sorry?
Him: hskgg sauce ksjsg
Him: Sixjghskhsk erehskg
[Here I was in luck, because the cash register displayed my total. Phew. I paid him.]
Him: hmmm a goo?
Him: hmmm or goo?
Me: Uhh, to go? Thanks?
[Confusion causes me to put question marks on the end of everything I say. I hear what I’m saying and sort of want to punch myself in the face, yet I persist.]
Now, that actually wasn’t the bad part. The bad part was that after a few minutes of listening to Monkey tell me about how this particular Pokemon can actually evolve into this other Pokemon that can do this terribly important thing against some third Pokemon that no one else can do (pretending to listen: mothering at its finest), Young Master Mumblepants walked over to the counter with a bag of food and placed it RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE (not out towards my edge, but also not back near him) and said: sjfjs order jseudv quesadilla gsjgew
THAT IS EXACTLY WHAT HE SAID.
And I looked into the bag and saw one quesadilla and two burritos, so I ASSUMED that he’d said something about how the second quesadilla was coming right up. So I continued to stand there. And stand there. And stand there.
Eventually another college student worker came along and asked me if I needed something.
Me: Um, well, I think I’m waiting on another quesadilla…?
Him: Let me check.
So he walked the SIX FEET over to the guy who’d waited on us, who came over, looked at me like I had twelve heads, and said: skjgse ida quesadilla BOTTOM!
Oh, right. The second quesadilla was on the bottom of the bag. Of course. SILLY ME.
So I gathered up my food and my children and my 95-year-old eardrums and went home.
I was briefly filled with a righteous anger because, seriously, I realize you’re not exactly making the big bucks, but if you’re going to work in service, you should speak loudly enough for people to hear you. But that all disappeared when I got home and Otto suggested we have beer with our burritos.
I said: dfjs sgeuhgsl sjdfls BEER!
And then it was all okay. The end.