Lovelies, wanna hear a fun yet emotional story? I fell in love with my waiter today….
HOW IT ALL BEGAN
I was having lunch in Mr. D’z Route 66 Diner in Kingman, Arizona, where my parents and I stopped on our way from the Grand Canyon to Lake Havasu. When we entered the mint and pink house, the first thing I saw was a dark haired guy with tunnels in his ear and a big smile who kinda waved at me. I smiled back, as I always do (a habit that can get a little irritating when crazy people on the subway smile at me and take that as an invitation to follow me home) as I realized that the hand he was holding up symbolized our party of three (at least it wasn’t a klingone greeting). “Booth or table”, he asked, and I shoved my mom in front of me because she usually prefers tables (although someone please tell me who wants to sit at a table when you can lounge in a booth?), but she probably didn’t hear him and just stared at him in a I-have-no-idea-what’s-going-on-but-I’ll-just-be-graceful-way. Devastated of my highly sophisticated entrance (I heard boys like it when you don’t talk to them and just send your mom instead who doesn’t answer either), I slid into the booth the poor guy randomly advised us to.
I was having lunch in Mr. D’z Route 66 Diner in Kingman, Arizona, where my parents and I stopped on our way from the Grand Canyon to Lake Havasu. When we entered the mint and pink house, the first thing I saw was a dark haired guy with tunnels in his ear and a big smile who kinda waved at me. I smiled back, as I always do (a habit that can get a little irritating when crazy people on the subway smile at me and take that as an invitation to follow me home) as I realized that the hand he was holding up symbolized our party of three (at least it wasn’t a klingone greeting). “Booth or table”, he asked, and I shoved my mom in front of me because she usually prefers tables (although someone please tell me who wants to sit at a table when you can lounge in a booth?), but she probably didn’t hear him and just stared at him in a I-have-no-idea-what’s-going-on-but-I’ll-just-be-graceful-way. Devastated of my highly sophisticated entrance (I heard boys like it when you don’t talk to them and just send your mom instead who doesn’t answer either), I slid into the booth the poor guy randomly advised us to.
THE MOMENT OF TRUTH
When he brought our cokes (don’t people say their names anymore when taking your order? Now he’ll just have to be named “Waiter at the diner” eternally) I didn’t thank him, but not out of my famous hard-to-get-act but simply because I thought that it was my mom’s drink (and that’s why you should not hope to meet someone while you’re with your parents, ever). However, when he reached for the straws on his tray, he didn’t manage to grab them at first. Since I love to notice such little quirks, I automatically smiled at him again, and he grinned back, looking adorably embarrassed. Our eyes locked and he went away, leaving me checking him out from behind (he has a subtle tatoo on his arm, which everyone knows is quite intruiging).
When he brought our cokes (don’t people say their names anymore when taking your order? Now he’ll just have to be named “Waiter at the diner” eternally) I didn’t thank him, but not out of my famous hard-to-get-act but simply because I thought that it was my mom’s drink (and that’s why you should not hope to meet someone while you’re with your parents, ever). However, when he reached for the straws on his tray, he didn’t manage to grab them at first. Since I love to notice such little quirks, I automatically smiled at him again, and he grinned back, looking adorably embarrassed. Our eyes locked and he went away, leaving me checking him out from behind (he has a subtle tatoo on his arm, which everyone knows is quite intruiging).
PERSONAL ATTENTION
He then brought our food, turned to go, stopped in his tracks, struggling a little to hold his balance, looked straight at me and asked “do you need some parmesan or anything to go over….” I am cracking up as I’m writing this because it sounds so ordinary and stupid on its own but trust me, he has a nice, deep, throathy voice (but not Vin- Diesel-overkill-style-deep) and was anticipatingly awaiting my answer. He looked cute doing that, okay? It made me want to be looked at by him some more.
He then brought our food, turned to go, stopped in his tracks, struggling a little to hold his balance, looked straight at me and asked “do you need some parmesan or anything to go over….” I am cracking up as I’m writing this because it sounds so ordinary and stupid on its own but trust me, he has a nice, deep, throathy voice (but not Vin- Diesel-overkill-style-deep) and was anticipatingly awaiting my answer. He looked cute doing that, okay? It made me want to be looked at by him some more.
THE GOODBYE
I had let my hair down and checked my reflection in the Elvis-cladded ladies restroom, ready to leave the diner poised and elegant (well, as poised and elegant as one can possibly look wearing a black playsuit and flip-flops). A different waiter brought the check, much to my despair, but the second before I stepped out of the door, my searching glances met his, standing at the bar. This time, he really waved at me, and thankfully, my reflexes set in once again, preventing me from fainting from happiness and making me wave back at him.
I had let my hair down and checked my reflection in the Elvis-cladded ladies restroom, ready to leave the diner poised and elegant (well, as poised and elegant as one can possibly look wearing a black playsuit and flip-flops). A different waiter brought the check, much to my despair, but the second before I stepped out of the door, my searching glances met his, standing at the bar. This time, he really waved at me, and thankfully, my reflexes set in once again, preventing me from fainting from happiness and making me wave back at him.
Now I am in both the stage of just meeting someone and
crushing really really hard and the one of already being heartbroken at
once, because I’m not sure when the next time will be when I’ll swing by
that diner in Kingman, Arizona, again.
Sooo, if you’re reading this, waiter at the diner, you’re pretty darn cute and I like you.
Love,
Rosy Smith
Rosy Smith
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