Thirty Makes It A Party!

For the first time since last March, I am going to an indoor restaurant with my family. There’s a wait, and I’ve been put in charge of the buzzer that lets us know when they’re ready to seat us. After about forty minutes, the buzzer goes off, and I hand it to the hostess at the front.

Hostess: “Go right on in. If the girl seating you asks for your buzzer number, you’re number thirty.”

We go in and are greeted by a smiling waitress. I am somewhat hard of hearing in loud locations, and this place is as packed as it can get with social distancing still enforced. She asks me a short question I can’t quite make out; I only hear the sound “-ty”, so I assume she’s confirming our buzzer number.

Me: “Thirty.”

The waitress’s eyes widen, and it takes me a moment to realize she hadn’t said THIR-ty, but PAR-ty.

Me: “Oh, my God, I’m so sorry. Five. Party of five.”

I’m sorry, dear waitress, you did not just get a party of thirty dropped on you, just a dolt who’s forgotten how restaurants work after a year.