Tonight was salsa night at The Restaurant.  My last experience with salsa night was the first time I was at The Restaurant and just watched.  It was insane to watch.  People everywhere.  Dancing sweating, drinking, then sitting at a different table and wondering why your server never got you that 5th drink…only to realize MAYBE it’s because YOU moved.  sigh.  And the A/C was broken. . . I should type that as “broken” last time and although it was turned on tonight we couldn’t feel it.  I had some tables, that’s nice, some ordered food, I remembered to give them their roll-up of silverware, I punched in their drinks and got them, I checked in on them through out the night.  A success I’d say.  No one yelled at me or hated me.  No one asked to speak to my manager, no complained about the food or the portions or the prices.  I only had one problem, I ate something that my stomach said “ABSOLUTELY NOT” too.  I will not go into details.  However a helpful part was Ro made me some gingerale with bitters and it helped.  She said I could go if I needed to and she’d watch my tables, but I wasn’t sick-sick, I just needed the food I ate to be…removed from my body. (clears throat)

At any rate, although the night seemed long and hot, I survived – however, i’d like to make some comments and place some concerns to some of the patrons, here, in this place::::

Ma’am, you do not need denim shoes and hair accessories if you are going to sport jeans and a jean jacket also.

Sir(s) I appreciate your gentlemanly look.  You came in with your suits, your three-piece suits, your matching suits, but just watching you dance for 4 hours wearing the the suit and never removing the jacket makes me have a heat stroke. wow.

Mullets. are. out.

ma’am if you are going to attempt to sport a dress that is obviously made of stretchy cotton and for someone 10 sizes smaller than you, please wear undergarments as the fabric stretches and reveals just about everything.

Mr. Sir that “runs” salsa night, as in YOU sell  the tickets and this is your event – you cannot  go into the kitchen and discuss stuff with the chef.  She’s cooking. They are ALL cooking and if you’re question is “is this just the menu for tonight?” you can ask any of us that are on the floor.  We are the ones in all black, sporting black aprons.  We’re the ones you try to boss around until you realize we’ve walked away from you because you. don’t. boss. us. around.  And you don’t need to put your hand on my arm to hold me in place while you speak into my ear.  I know it’s loud, but I removed your hand from my arm twice already in my life.  Do it again, and I remove you’re whole arm.  Thank you

Folks…FOLKS…excuse me FOOOLLKKSSSS???!!!!  Do not use the entrance as an extra dance space, the runners need to get food past you, the hostess needs to seat other people, I am carrying drinks on this tray and now you have made it so your drippy sweatiness has cause a slick residue on the floor.

Dear the-only-white-couple, although I appreciate your getting out and trying new things and new restaurants etc, and I know you’ve been taking some kind of dance lessons but you cannot attempt the last scene of Dirty Dancing unless you speed up,  and do it on the dance floor – not next to the kitchen door.  Also, if you haven’t noticed, it’s crowded so mind the arm extensions mmkay?

Do not look at me and say “hellooooo” creepy style and look me up and down.  This is unacceptable because you are old enough to be my father, you are drunk, I am at work and mostly because I DON’T LIKE THAT.  And my boyfriend will kick your ass.  Or you know, some other high school saying.

Dear granny who brought your salsa dance shoes and worked up the dance floor, then later changed into your jazz shoes because …well my guess is the heels started killing you – good for you.  You looked great out there tonight and I’ll bet decades ago you were a star performer, and I wonder if you are a teacher.  I mean that. =)

:::::::

The night ended, well – my night ended and I successfully closed my checks out, did my closing and clocked out.  I stood waiting for the bus for 10 minutes before REALLY wanting to be home and showered and hearing K’s voice, so I hailed a gypsy cab and arrived home.  I know I live in sort of the ghetto, but sometimes there’s real relief when I see the little chinese place 50 paces from the white archway that landmarks my buildings front door.  Sometimes it’s nice to give a nod and say “hey” to the guy closing up the little mexican food place next door and a small smile to the guy sitting by the door with his eye patch.  Shrug.  I feel safe in my neighborhood.  It’s loud with sirens sometimes and people blaring their spanish music or rap. It’s mostly populated by dominican and black people – yes I said black, get over it and I’m a halfbreed.  But it’s not terrible and beautiful parts of NY are a mere train ride away.  Almost a month here now, almost, and although it felt like home immediately in my room, in my space, the lifestyle I am embarking on is also beginning to take shape and I’m okay with how it’s coming along.