On the House

On the House

Noel Laflin

8-11-18

We were nearly done with our supper when all hell broke loose in the large booth closest to the front door - the one that had a good view of both Chapman Avenue and the Plaza.

Two teenage girls began to scream, quickly followed, in turn, by two older women. As the rest of the patrons turned their collective attention that way, the four ladies were attempting to climb onto the old red, taped, torn bench seats.

The shrieks continued.

Out of the corner of my eye I caught sight of the cause for their distress - a very large rat now scurrying across the restaurant floor. He quickly passed our table and made a beeline for the candy counter. He squeezed beneath a row of Abba Zabbas and disappeared.

Our server, the pleasant one we hoped for each week, later explained that a plumber working in the basement had startled the critter. Fearing a swing from his wrench, the rat headed upward, squeezing through a hole in the floor beneath the booth occupied by the four women.

One of them felt something crawl across her foot, took a peak as to what it was, and then set off her vocal dismay. Her companions followed suit.

Our pleasant friend then said there would be no charge. The meal, due to unfortunate circumstances, was on the house - for everyone.

We tipped her still of course, as she was a damn nice waitress - always sneaking you a large soup when you ordered the small size. You know, things like that.

The sale, closure, and lengthy remodel of one of our favorite eateries began within the year.

I hope they paid special attention to the basement.

My main regret, thinking back on that night so many years ago, as the meal was free after all, was that we had not ordered dessert.