While traveling, we went to Joe's Boathouse- which is supposed to be this amazing surf and turf shack. When in Maine, eat lobster, right?
We drove out to the Boathouse, were seated, started our appetizer, and were having a generally pleasant time. The waitress kept my water glass full, and I was happy. Then, disaster.
I would like to pause the story for a moment and let you readers know that water glasses, restaurants, and I have had an adversarial relationship- at best. Chris, Zak, and Andrew all have fallen victim to some form of my incredible lack of coordination, usually ending up with a lapful of ice water.
Somehow, between picking up my glass and drinking, my glass SHATTERED, covering my crotch in broken glass, ice, and water. The ice and the water were embarrassing, the broken glass was a hazard. I reached behind myself to pull myself up off of/from under the broken glass, to plant my hand firmly on some of the glass that had landed on my sweater.
Ow.
Also, a crotch covered in water.
Dude, that's so unfair. Spontaneous glass explosion isn't your fault.
ReplyDeleteYikes. Hope you're not permanently maimed or anything. Clearly you haven't bled to death because you blogged it.
ReplyDeleteA blogger I like in SF (Kristi) refers to a moment like that as 'breezy elegance'.
Oh no! I hope it didn't ruin your whole night!
ReplyDeleteThat's when you need to wrap a sweater or shawl around your waist. From the front, you can you see someone's eyes and divert or explain. From behind, it's hopeless. Wrap and cover, you know, a variation on duck and cover.
ReplyDelete