At Least They're Committed

The boys and I were at Outback celebrating Demon Spawn’s new job with the steak and crab special, of which I got none of the crab because Edison’s Black Dahlia wanted extra and his father wasn’t going to get the crab deal and we asked him to because then he could give his to EBD but he ended up eating it all so I gave EBD mine and his dad ended up snagging some of that, too. Men. No matter, there was a great deal of laughter and joy and our waiter was attentive and the bus boy, who was developmentally disabled, hustled in his white apron from table to table, piling the dishes, spraying and wiping each surface with great vigor and all attention to detail.

At the table for two next to our booth sat a couple; she looking as average as they come and he not so much. He was covered with various black tattoos, striping all the way down his arms and crisscrossing up to his chin. He had large brass gauges in his ears and a nearly shaved head. Being someone who delights in unique individuals, I of course thought he was lovely. But it did run through my mind, as it often does, that many people would not find him lovely and might even find him frightening or offensive and that would be a shame. I’ve found the most distinctive people are often the most genuine and caring, but that most people don’t notice.

And then it happened. As the bus boy, probably 30-ish, finished clearing the table near the couple and started back to the kitchen, the man stopped him. The man told him what a wonderful job he was doing, thanked him and slipped a couple of bills into his apron. The bus boy was surprised and absolutely delighted. He excitedly thanked the man and then skipped — yes, skipped — to the kitchen. It took my breath away.

Even today EBD said again, “I keep thinking of how cool that guy was. That was awesome.” And I keep thinking of it to and I hope to never forget it.