So the thing is - I’m not cool. No surprise. This knowledge has not escaped my awareness. Here’s a little story where this fact was driven home by experience. Feel free to laugh or call me name and leave comments.
Gulf oysters were plentiful in the area. This was in Destin, Florida tourist destination. Just after my tour of duty in the Air Force I took a couple of years off of serious responsibility. My introduction to waiting tables and restaurant life. During this period I was coming out of my shell joining the masses as a civilian.
Boy meets girl. Girl thinks boy is cute and cool. Boy thinks boy is cool. Reality shakes its head and has to step in to show both parties that boy is in reality — NOT COOL.
It started is conversation which led to an invitation to lunch. Oh my god. I had a date with one of the cool waitresses. This must mean I’m hipper than previously thought. We went to a restaurant with an open deck on the second story overlooking the Gulf of Mexico. Man I am so cool. She suggested we order or beer and oysters. Now, those that know me are probably already laughing right now. If there was ever a quick and easy formula to making Robert throw up oysters and beer would be it.
We engaged in small talk for a short period while I prayed for a sudden hurricane or tornado to hit just down the beach. In a short period our food came. By this time I had already had two beers and pleaded with God to do something quickly. Slow motion set in as it does in times of great stress when adrenaline dumped into my system as I watched her show me how to eat the oyster. She was really good at it. She was super cool. I’m this close to being cool too.
As the tables next to ours semi-jumped and scattered I remember wondering what was taking our waitress so long in getting the busboy there to clean up. As the hours passed I begged god to cause a small fire in the kitchen. Ignored again. Damnit!
These days I fairly comfortable in answering “No, I don’t do oysters.”
