Tonight my friend Dennis treated me to dinner for my impending birthday. Because we wanted to support Dine Out For Life, we were limited to only a few places.
(I kept embarrassing him by calling it The National Night Out Against AIDS instead...but that's not a bad title, is it?)
Anyway, we decided upon a terribly adequate Mexican restaurant, only to find it packed. We were shocked. Even more shocking was that the crowd was not what we expected (hoped?). Yes, there were a few gays here and there, but for the most part it was populated by very boisterous straights. It was like Spring Break in
The restaurant, however, seemed to be almost entirely staffed by trannies.
Very exciting.
One greeted us at the door, in fact, and languidly ushered us to the courtyard.
Our waitress was a particularly glamorous specimen, of indeterminate ethnicity...in a tight denim miniskirt, silicone chest heaving up out of a very low cut white blouse. Her honey blonde weave, however, looked a bit acrylic in the moonlight.
She couldn't have been a worse waitress. She took at least 30 minutes to even show up, and when she did, she had an attitude. Then she clicked her heels and disappeared for nearly an hour.
Suddenly she rushed up to the table with a refill. "Oh....y'all don't hate me please!"
We didn't say anything. I was distracted by the heaving silicone.
"I am so sorry, y'all! I completely forgot to put in your orders. What did y'all order again?"
We told her.
"Girl, I have nevah done this in all my years of workin' here. I swear! I am SO sorry," she drawled the best she could, through her freshly injected lips.
She was mortified. Well, as mortified as a tranny in an eight inch skirt and four inch heels can be.
For the rest of the evening she was completely dutiful (except for bringing me the wrong food....I didn't bother telling her). Every time she came back, she pouted sadly and apologized again and again....and offered freebies. She plied us with free margaritas and flans and turned the turbo fan in the corner on blast, aiming it just for us. It was like being at the beach, the noise of Cancun drifted away.
All in all, a lovely meal.
7 comments:
It was Tomatillos wasn't it? I just knows it.
It would take more than free margaritas to ply me.
No free bj?
I hope it is still open when I come back to visit. Oh, the laughs. At least you got free booze and one more interesting dining experience to add to your list.
You know how I said the figs-from-your-backyard and shrimp poboys were torturing me? This evens it all out. Consider me un-tortured.
Miss J thinks Jason should have made her pose for a blog picture as penance. Then his readers could be enjoying that as much as Jason did his free drinks.
it sounds like jolly good fun !
Bless her heart. I myself could overlook just about anything for tranny-served free cocktails. Sounds like a fabulous evening!
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