Sunday, January 3, 2010

Breakfast with the Brinn's

We went to Bob Evans, a breakfast chain similar (but inferior) to IHOP, as a final send off to my little sister, who returns to Maryland to complete her Marines training this afternoon. Once again, a full family outing in which food is involved turned into an epic disaster (You can read about a similar experience here).

My dad was out in full force today. Before ordering, he had a back and forth with my mom about whether he should order a pancake or a western omelet in front of our waitress (Confusion point #1). He finally decided on a western omelet, then asked how many eggs are used to make it (The title of the omelet section on the menu is 3-Egg Omelets). She said three. He asked if they could make it with two (Confusion point #2). Then he asked if it comes with home fries (Once again, it's right there on the description in the menu). She says yes. He asks if they can put onions in the home fries (Confusion point #3).

At this point, it becomes painfully obvious that the $2.25/hour plus meager tips is not worth the effort, so when both of my sisters order a complex combination of side dishes and custom plate items, I can tell she was probably drawing a stick figure hanging itself instead of taking down our order.

Then we play the waiting game...

As the seconds turn into minutes (waiting fifteen minutes for a complicated order in a crowded restaurant on a Sunday morning! Say it isn't so!), my dad starts to grow impatient. And when my dad is impatient, he starts talking out loud, which is never a good thing.

When the food finally comes, it's predictably insufficient. The waitress forgot my sister's toast, the phantom pancake that was never ordered didn't show up ("But where's my pancake!?"), there aren't any onions in the prepackaged home fries (surprise, surprise!), and, lo and behold, the omelet has three eggs in it.

Oh yeah, and my other sister decided to order an extra side of sausage when the food arrived.

So then, when the waitress has had just enough time to walk from our table to the kitchen, my dad decides that my sister has waited long enough for her precious breakfast meats, and calls the bus boy over to repeat the order.

Then it comes, but it "tastes funny." Yes, Katie, grime from unwashed kitchen floors, saliva, and semen do taste "funny" when you combine them with greasy, partially-frozen sausage.

..The saddest part is, in the competition for "Most embarrassing thing a family member did this weekend," this entire episode is a distant second.


Melissa said...

Hey, at least you're allowed to EAT at restaurants without being given the Look of Death and being reminded forcefully to "MAKE HEALTHY CHOICES."

BurningSky said...

Melissaaaah..did you drink water today?

You need to drink more water.