The Crusty Fork

Imagine when you sit down at a restaurant and the complimentary bread or first appetizer comes out. You pull the cloth napkin wrapped professionally around the silverware and place it in your lap. Just as you're about to put the silverware back down on the table you realize there is no napkin to place the silverware on. Your table was wiped down, yes, but probably by the already used and dirty rag the bus boy used on the last table with his or her hands that have more than likely not been washed or sanitized since the last wipe down. So you panic internally thinking you're going to surely catch the swine flu or H1N1 virus just because you didn't properly protect your silverware prior to your meal. But then you either think to ask the waiter or waitress for some extra napkins because you'll probably need them anyway to clean up the splatter from the ketchup, sauce or dropped food on the table. If you're feeling generous. Then again you may get over it thinking that you transport enough germs yourself just opening the door to enter the restaurant or from the restroom door you exited just prior to sitting back down before your meal arrives. (Take it from the pro who uses the restroom more times in one day than most normal individuals and who can probably tell you where all the restrooms are in every location she's been to before. It's a sad existence but at least it caters to my need to wash my hands frequently. No I'm not OCD.) After you've solved this little internal issue you notice there's something crusted over in between two prongs on your fork. You examine it closely. You ponder whether to just pick it off with your napkin or one of the paper napkins the waitress brought because, duh, it's disposable. Or you think to ask the waiter or waitress for a replacement. HOWEVER, this is when you remember that film you watched called "Waiting" with hottie comedic actor Ryan Reynolds (Scarlett Johansson, you bitch for stealing him off the market) and Anna Farris (I want to be her). Not only do most of us know the stories of restaurants spitting in food or doing heinous things behind your back as you wait for your meal, but we all know that the last thing you want to do is piss off your waiter or waitress. It's the domino effect. Word gets around and next thing you know you could end up like Kyle in "Road Trip" and eat something without ever knowing what really happened during the preparation. Anyways, back to the crusty fork. You search your surroundings and you find a small child. Jackpot. Blame it on the kid. The waiter or waitress will likely feel bad for the little girl or guy and have some compassion. Or they'll just spread the word there's a kid in their zone and then the blame's on them not you. New fork in hand and an enjoyable meal fret free. SO next time you sit down at a restaurant opt for the booth or table near a small child. You may endure some screaming, crying, or table banging but at least your silverware is safe. Hmmm, is this a Larry David moment minus the outward yelling and pissing someone off? Perhaps.

(Note: If anyone reading this really has this many issues or internal monologues like I do, I suggest you either drink during your meal so you get over it or go see a psychiatrist.)