Gentle Reminder

Three Sundays ago as me boys and I returned to our hotel after seeing the Red Sox at Fenway Park and then making a literal walk of several historic sights in downtown Boston, we were a bit tired. Well, they were: the old man was ready for another several hours of sightseeing. The night was young! 

Be that as it may, we elected to eat a late dinner at the restaurant in the hotel rather than taking a chance on finding a place somewhere else on a Sunday evening. 

As the pub and grub was open until 10 and we walked in around 8:45, we figured we wouldn't be inconveniencing the staff. Still, we sat at a table for better than ten minutes without attention. We began to whisper between ourselves about perhaps simply grabbing a pizza from the carry out joint we saw a block away. At that point the waiter walked around the bar to approach us.

Or so we thought. He came near but breezed on by, and actually on out the front door. Okay.

A few more minutes of our lives burned off and I finally suggested, maybe a tad louder than necessary, that we ought to just trudge across to Domino's when me son Frank ever-so-gently gave me about the softest elbow to the ribs a guy might get. He saw where I hadn't that the waiter was finally coming up with menus. "Can I get you fellows anything to drink?" he asked, very pleasantly.

So we ordered our dinners and ate, and he was reasonable attentive after that. Yet what I will always remember about the night was the most subtle possible poke in the the ribs a man could ever imaging getting.