About 2 years ago, my family and I went out for dinner at a nice chain restaurant on a Wednesday evening. After being led to our booth, given our menus and had our drink orders taken, I glanced around the area we were seated in. It seemed that we were in a sort of “family with young children” section. Our children were 10 and 13 and had been taught how to behave in restaurants, but no biggie. The restaurant seemed to be having a slow period; there was a low hum of conversation, a few other families with younger children, but no unruly children running around. That lasted for about 10 minutes.
Within 5 minutes of ordering our appetizer, the restaurant had a “rush.” It was not a holiday or school break, but all the tables in our section were filled with other families. The noise level increased but it still was not too bad. There was one young boy that decided to run around tables and in the aisle, but his mother was able to squash that behavior fairly quickly. Then the “hell” part of dinner began.
Hellish part # 1: A couple with an infant was seated behind me. They had just given their drink order when the infant started to make noises. The noises progressed to full-on, top of its lungs, ear-splitting screaming. Nothing the parents could do would stop the screaming. The mother even took the infant outside and walked it around to no avail. This baby was unhappy and was making sure everyone knew it. At this point, I would have paid for my drinks and left (as they had been unable to order due to the infant’s screaming). But NO! This couple wanted to sit down and have a meal in, even if the entire restaurant had to hear their child scream. They had to shout their order to the server.
After this screaming had been going on for about 25 minutes, the manager came out (I’m sure due to customer AND employee complaints), told them it was obvious that the infant was distressed and offered to comp their meal and have it boxed for them to take home, but they adamantly refused. By George, they were going to sit in the restaurant and eat, no matter what! They “talked” to each other by shouting OVER the infant’s screaming. The rest of the parents in this section are all looking at each other thinking “What is wrong with these people?” It was obvious to everyone but them that there was something seriously wrong with that child. Why couldn’t they just take their child home or to the ER and have a nice, sit-down dinner another time? It was very weird the way they insisted on staying there to eat, ignoring the fact that the kid was turning purple from screaming.
The people on the other side of our booth had been very vocal, with the husband using profanity-laced statements to make their displeasure of the situation known. Yes, it was annoying and aggravating and a few people even slapped down their money on the table without waiting for the bill to come and walked out, but the profanity was as annoying and aggravating to me as was the screaming. I even went over to their booth and asked the man to please stop using profanity. I said yes, it was very aggravating that the child is screaming and disrupting everyone’s meals, but your cussing about it is not making it any better. You have a young child sitting here beside you, I have two children at the next booth over, this entire area is filled children, and the language you are using is not the type of language ANYONE needs to be hearing. He glared at me with his beady little eyes, did a full head-to-toe type of leer, and then turned his attention to something outside the window. Can anyone say C-R-E-E-P-Y?
The poor baby’s screams became hoarse, then softer and softer until it eventually stopped. I guess the tyke either tired itself out or completely lost its voice. As soon as the screaming stopped, Hellish part #2 started.
Hellish part #2: The couple on the other side of our booth, the ones using profanity, started to grumble again. They were making statements such as “I’m glad that f**king baby shut the hell up.” “Can’t even enjoy a d*mn meal without listening to some f**king baby squall.” “D*mn parents ought to pay for everybody’s f**ing meal for making us listen to that d*mn brat they brought in here. Dumba**es.” There were several more comments along that line. He kept shooting his creepy little stares at me over the booth wall. With supreme effort I managed not to get back up and rip his larynx out.
Eventually he quit cussing and turned his attention to the young girl, presumably his daughter, that was in the booth with him and his wife. He started rubbing her shoulders, smiling real big and said, and I quote, “I get to give you your bath tonight! I’m going to run you a big tub full of bubbles and sprinkle in some of Mommy’s special bath beads. I’m going to wash your hair with that coconut shampoo. Then I’ll comb and blow-dry it for you.”
I had to pick my jaw up off the table. I will never forget those words for as long as I live. His voice has that creepy tone that makes you shiver. I felt like he was basically describing how he was going to clean her up before he did something disgusting to her. I looked at my husband and he also had a look of disgust on his face. That was it for me. I waved our server over, asked for and paid the bill. As we were leaving, I made sure to pause by that booth long enough to say “Can’t even enjoy a d*mn meal without listening to some f**king child molester describe how he is going to abuse his child.” I know, immature, retaliatory and impolite, but I just wanted him to know that I knew what he was planning to do.
I went outside and called the police to report a suspected case of child abuse. They sent some officers over; I told them what I heard and they said they could not do anything because he didn’t actually verbalize any intent to commit a crime against the child and I hadn’t witnessed him commit a crime. Oh, and that being creepy wasn’t a crime. I said “Well, if you had been in there, heard the way he said it and the way the child tried to shrink away when he started rubbing her shoulders, you would know he intended to commit a crime against her.” They said they would “have a talk” with him and send a report of suspected child abuse to Child Protective Services, but that’s all the law allowed them to do.
It was the loudest, creepiest dinner I have ever had. I have avoided returning to that restaurant because I’m not sure I could control myself if I ran into Mr. Cussing Creeper again.
- Michelle
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