My dad was an a**hole. A lovable a**hole, a compassionate, intelligent, caring a**hole, but piss him off, and he became the pettiest a**hole you would ever meet. I have so many stories about his pettiness, but this one is one of my favorites. (And before anyone asks, I loved my dad fiercely and miss him every day; he passed way too soon.)
One important thing to know about my dad is that if having the most noxious fart were an Olympic sport, he would’ve had multiple gold medals. Long car rides with him could be dangerous. And you knew that if Dad was in the toilet before you got there, you waited until anything he left dissipated, especially if he just had a nice, rich meal.
Dad and I both loved diners, and when we traveled, we would always ask where the good local diners were. On one of our college trips, we arrived at our hotel a little early, and our room wasn’t ready. The hotel clerk was very apologetic (some of their housekeeping staff had called in sick and they were running behind). Since we hadn’t had lunch yet (it was around 2:30 ish) we asked the clerk for their diner recommendations, and they suggested a place not far from the hotel.
Off we go to lunch. Y’all, it’s been over thirty years, but I still remember how good that food was. And our waitress, Sandy.
Why do I remember her name? Because the couple at the table near us kept yelling it over and over and over again. There were maybe ten people in the restaurant total, and Sandy was taking care of most of them. She was on the younger side but knew her stuff. I always like to ask what the staff likes when I’m making my decisions, and she told me what she liked, what they were known for, and what the day grill cook excelled at.
As Dad and I were thoroughly enjoying our food, we watched this couple treat Sandy like she was stupid. They sent their food back multiple times, and said nasty things about Sandy so loud that we had no trouble overhearing them.
Every time Sandy came to drop something off, or check on us, she just looked more and more upset. Since we weren’t in a hurry (and the restaurant wasn’t busy) we lingered over our meal, ordered dessert, and were still there when the mean couple paid their check (you paid at the cash register) and told Sandy (quite loudly) that since her service was so bad, all they were leaving her was a dollar tip and they thought that was being generous.
They left, and when Sandy came to give us our check, she looked like she had been crying. Dad went to pay the check and gave her a very generous tip. When we got in the car, he was pissed, and I got to hear a lecture about how if he ever found out I treated a server like those people had, he would whoop my a** no matter how old I was.
We got back to the hotel and had just checked in when another couple walked into the lobby. They headed towards the elevator that we were heading towards, and Dad and I both realized that it was the nasty couple from the restaurant who had been so mean to Sandy.
We got on the elevator with them; they were staying on a floor above ours. Just as the door opened on our floor and I was walking out, my dad paused, let out a large noxious fart, and said, “That’s for Sandy,” and then walked off, smiling as the elevator door closed, hotboxing the nasty couple in with his equally nasty fart.
I laughed so hard I cried. I do feel bad for anyone else who had to ride that elevator after that.
