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7-20-2002 - 08:45
...and speaking of disgusting The family and I were out to dinner at Chili's the other night.
Maria loves them chicken strips. I order the Crispy fried chicken salad. A few minutes later our waitress delivers 2 fried chicken salads to the table on our right. Immediately after that, disgusted squealing comes from the 2 middle-aged women at the table. A wiggly little worm has been discovered in both their salads. Our waitress apologized, manager comes along and apologizes, then takes care of the check. The ladies return the salads, order burgers, fries and dessert. Then MY fried chicken salad arrives. An anticipatory hush falls over the restaurant. The waitress and manager are on the sidelines, holding their breath. You know the manager went back to the kitchen and said 'Would you wash the fucking lettuce this time, for God's sake' The ladies at the next table are staring at me for validation. I can barely stand the idea of poking my fork into the salad for fear of what is going to pop out at me. Ray has a big, juicy slab of beef and Maria's chicken fingers are looking really good. But I'm not a squealy little fag afraid of a worm. I've eaten off the streets in Bangkok. I've drank the water in Mexico. I ate for years in the hospital cafeteria. I dig in. It's delicious
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