Yesterday, at a local diner, I recieved the shock of my life. As the middle aged waitress (not to be confused with the Bitchy Waiter, btw) brought out our food, I lightly touched her arm and asked, "Could you bring us a new bottle of ketchup?" The 6 yr. old, Crazy Man, was already eyeing the, for all intesive purposes, "empty" bottle on the table very dubiously. I thought I would ask, in an effort to head off the volley of questions that would spew from Crazy Man's mouth.
She turned on me with angry glazed-over eyes and announced, "Do I look like ya' mutha? Do I look like I have the time to go all the way back to the kitchen, then come all the way back here with a new bottle of ketchup, FOR YOU? Look, look around.....does it look like I'm not busy today?"
I did look around, and was embarrassed to see the majority of the restaurant staring at me. "No...it's okay, don't worry about it," I mumbled. But she had already turned hard on here heels, loudly saying, "But here I go, getting you another mutha-fuckin' ketchup, like I'm the f-ing Heinz 57- St. Paulie girl...."
"Quick, before she comes back.....grab the bottle from the table over there....AND HIDE IT." I told my 9 yr. old, fearing that if she saw, we'd be pelted with small packages of orange marmalade or even worse, the germ-laced mints at the register. Then it hit me, in one angry, curse-laden mouthful, I had been Steven Slater-ed.
Like the pissed-off JetBlue flight attendant, who according to Jimmy Fallon, "grabbed two beers and jumped." I believe I was the victim of a walk by, table side "Slater-ing" - one, in what I fear might be a rash of copy cat acts from employees in the service industry, most of whom are fed up with the general douche-yness of their customers and the lull of modern life.
Now granted the flight was coming in from Pittsburgh....need I say more, but I feel that Steven Slater could've behaved in a more professional manner. Let's face it Steve, if you can't handle the luggage, then get off the plane.....which you did, after you smartly threw down your very large carry-on bag, which I'm told looked like it would NOT fit in any of the overhead bins.
And while air travel has become increasingly no frills - no pillows, blankets, food or leg room - the flight attendants are there to set a friendly tone and to gently remind passengers that we're all in this together, so let's make the best of it. Having recently flown from coast to coast in my "fragile" state, it was not only an uncomfortable experience, but an extremely eye-opening one.....NO ONE....I repeat NO ONE helped the very visibly pregnant woman hoist her bag into the overhead bin, then once again, hoist it back down at the end of the flight. Of the 4 flights, (I connected each way), NOT ONE of my smelly, agitated fellow passengers, or any of the "friendly" flight attendants so much as lifted a finger to help, or ask if any assistance was needed. I realize that pregnancy is not a handicap, and women were long ago giving birth on the job in rice paddies and farm fields, but I thought modern manners would have garnered me a little help, and not comments like, "Oh my, you have to pee AGAIN, dear?"
I could have put any number of people in my pregnancy-fueled hormonal-cross hairs, but I didn't. Propriety brought me back to my seat to do numerous sharp reps of kegel exercises. As I counted and clentched, my anger subsided, though, sadly, the urge to pee did not. Now with every new news item about Steve Slater (or the now inevitable View appearance), working class hero, or t-shirt with Steve Slater in the likeness of Che Guevara, or Facebook tribute page, I just want to scream! Because if he had only "Queen-ed" up, done his own version of a kegel exercise and turned the other cheek, he could've been trolling for a sugar daddy on the next flight to Boca....like tomorrow!