The Oyster Bar and Two Old Duffers

I had just completed a busy weekend as a committee member of a huge LDS Mid-Singles Conference here in South Davis County - and had turned the corner into Finals week at school.  It felt like I was on my feet for four straight days and I had barely started on my big final projects - all due in under 72 hours.  I wasn't getting very far with them and yet had already felt like a much-needed break.  My head was spinning with other personal-life situations and I needed to do that one thing that I usually need to do when the chaos in my head is so loud it begins to overwhelm me; talk-therapy.

Luckily for me, my neighbor and good friend, Desperate Housewife, just so happen to have her birthday gift certificate for Market Street, and it just so happens her hubby is not a fan of seafood, and she just so happened to call and tell me she was kidnapping me for the night and we were going to dinner.  It was after 7 in the evening.  I warned her I was wearing my yoga pants, a hoodie and sporting a not-so-very-cute pony-tail.  Her response?  "Perfect.  I won't bother getting dressed up then."  She's good to me like that! Haha.  She may have even made mention how she was making a fashion statement with baby spit-up stains on her shirt... I can't remember.

Anywho, by the time we got the kidlets and the babies situated and got down to the Market Street location of preference (she likes the one in South Jordan best), it was nearly 8:30pm.  I should mention that it was also a Monday night.  I don't think either of us expected there to be a dinner wait at Market Street on a Monday night at 8:30pm.  Wrong.  There was about a 40 minute wait, however the hostess told us that we were welcome to dine in the adjacent dining room ("The Oyster Bar").  The Oyster Bar is a Restaurant of the same chain and has the same exact menu as the regular Market Street.  It's just that all of the tables are centered around a bar.  We agreed.

So, we sit, order our food, etc. and soon I notice 2 old duffer's seated at the bar, looking in our direction.  "Oh no," I tell Desperate Housewife, "I think these men are going to approach us -- and look, we get our pick.  One's white and one's black."  Desperate Housewife reminded me of the warning "once you go black you never go back".  And then we laughed because regardless of color, both of these men were out of our age range, not to mention the fact she is happily married.  Well, it was only a few moments later when one of them did approach, whom we'll call Frank, and I'm fairly certain he was older than my father who will be 61 this year.  (I'm not even in my 40's yet!)

Frank walks over to our table, trying to be all suave and stuff, and says while pointing to his other friend (We'll call him George) at the bar, "George and I were wondering if you ladies would like to join us?"  I laughed and said, "Thanks, but we're busy solving the problems of the world."  Then Desperate Housewife chimes in about how she's got a husband at home.  Frank, however, would not let up.  He says, "Solving the problems of the world?  Spousal issues?  You girls are too serious! What you girls need are a few good laughs."  I replied, "Trust me -- as soon as you leave, we'll be having plenty of laughs."  Then he was all, "Now c'mon.  Don't be like that.  Really, we just want you to come and talk to us for a little bit."  Then I said, "Why don't you go back over to your seat and we'll see."  To which his face lit up and he asked, "Really?  You'll come join us?"  To which I replied, "Look George, I'm not gonna lie.  It's probably not gonna happen.  But we really do want you to go back to your seat -- or else we'll have to start talking to you about Jesus."  His eyes got really big and he asked, "Talk about Jesus? What for?"  I responded, "Studies show that the number one way to make someone feel uncomfortable is to say, "I'd like to talk to you about Jesus,""  Frank looked puzzled and stated it wouldn't work because he was an Atheist.  I told him we would pray for him, but to our God.  He chuckled again, backed away saying, "All right, all right.  I can take a hint."

Obviously, he couldn't take a hint.  About 20 minutes later, I could see they were looking in our direction again. Both Desperate Housewife and I scooted to the edge of our seats in the booth, so THEY couldn't come and join US.  But that didn't stop Frank.  He tried to rub up right next to us.  She happened to be on the phone with her hubby at the time, and when Frank figured that out, he came over to me.  He started rubbing my arm, which was, er, um CREEPY.  So, I calmly held my arm straight out and said, "Do you see my fingertips?  Anything between my body and the tips of my fingers is my sphere of personal space; right now, you're in my personal space."  He took a step back.  He had obviously got a few more drinks into him than when he had come over the first time.  He persisted in trying to get us to come and join them.  I basically told him that he wouldn't want us to anyway, because we don't offer the types of "services" he and George are probably used to.  Then he was all, "Aww, c'mon...  we're not like that."  I said, "Uh-huh.  Well, let's just say that we're not old enough to ride that ride anyway.  But I can see if my dad has any single friends in the area..."  Then our waitress came over to bring our check.  From the short exchange she and Frank had I gathered Frank and George were regulars.  Frank finally left us alone and he and George paid their bill and left.

Desperate Housewife and I decided to stay a few minutes longer as we did NOT want to be anywhere near them as they got into their cars to drive home slightly inebriated.  Of course we had to laugh about it on the way home and call our men and give them a replay of what had just happened.  Oy.

Some of my friends say that the craziest things always seem to happen to me; I don't know why, but it does seem that way sometimes.  Seriously, I couldn't make this stuff up!