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So I had a trick last Saturday night. I wanted to tell you about it but with The Fabulous In-Laws here, it was difficult to find a free moment. And having to explain to The Fabulous In-Laws that I call myself A Whore seemed like a moment better suited for the time I can say something like, "We're giving you a grandchild to carry on the family name! ...andIcallmyselfawhore...." (No - no babies. Everyone relax.)

So I made coconut prawns for them, instead. That's my game - ply everyone with food and make the world a better place.

Anyway.

So I had this trick. And the Trick was especially tricky because The Bride is a member of The Friend in Texas' family. So I promised long ago not to tell anything personal or bitchy about The Bride and Groom - I did this out of my love for The Friend in Texas.

However.

I never promised to leave out details of The Guests; they are fair game.

It was a frustrating night on a lot of levels. I really should have known how it was all going to go when I stepped out of the van upon our arrival. I landed in a great big mud puddle, the kind that has the quicksand like mud in the bottom where your shoe has no choice but to get sucked down deeper, thereby filling your catering clog with muddy, slimy water.

Yeah that was nice.

The Venue was particularly beautiful - but particularly small. Like "average home living room" small. So it was impossible to move freely. And when you're hauling platters of hot food, moving freely is the key to happiness.

Well, at least my happiness.

So the night started out pretty well and then the chaos happened. 2 cork screws... broke. The wine - a cheap but acceptable brand - had freakishly strong corks. I mean, if I were ever on a boat in the middle of the Pacific Ocean and the boat sprung a leak, I would want these corks to ensure my safety.

So there's a mad dash to the kitchen with me rummaging through every cupboard and drawer imaginable to find a damn cork screw. In the mean time, people are lined up 50 deep for another glass of wine.

And I don't think I need to tell you what I said as I was rummaging through all those drawers and cupboards... that's right,fuck. As in, "This is un-fucking-believable."

So someone finds a suitable replacement for the cork screw and things start to settle a bit. But then I turn to see one of my staff on their hands and knees in the middle of the floor, with The Sound Man handing her towels.

Apparently some Sloppy Drunk Guest dropped his beer, and instead of say, taking care of it himself. He simply laughed and walked away. Fortunately for him, I didn't see it happen and never knew who it was exactly. There would have been a scerfuffle, I am sure.

So it's time to set up the serving station and one of the first things I put out was the chilled shrimp display. I should have known better but my mind was more on the logisitcs of getting the food through the throngs of people in my way, I wasn't concerned about dumbshits eating from the buffet before it was set to be served.

Yeah and that was dumnb.

I come back from the kitchen with my tray of steamed asparagus and there are two elderly gentlemen EATING MY SHRIMP. And I say that with all caps because as I was putting the platter of asparagus down, I was shouting "STOP EATING MY SHRIMP!", in my head.

It's exhasperating, really. I don't know what posesses people to lose all sense of decorum when food is placed on tables, but as The Food Whore, I can only stand back and wonder what in the Hell makes people so stupid...and wonder how I can drag their sorry asses into the coat closet without anyone else noticing.

I looked, but let it go. It wasn't a battle I had time for at the moment. We still had more food to bring out. But on the second trip, it happened again. And this time I couldn't ignore it. I think it was the fact that The Old Man actually stuck his finger in the cocktail sauce to see if it was to his liking.

It's at these moments that make me either want to pass out from the frustration of it all or scream explatives at the top of my lungs. Get your damn finger out of that bowl or so help me God I will drag your sorry ass out to that giant mud puddle in the back! But I can't. I have to smile and be discreet. Discreet is the key, actually. And in this situation, instead of screaming explatives at the top of my lungs, I turned my back to the room, made eye contact with The Old Guy and gave him The Raised-Eyebrow Stare of Death.

I sort of lost my cool for a minute, though, because I am pretty sure The Stare was accomanied by flared nostrils. And I know this because his eyes got big and he went over to his wife and pointed at me.

At that point I excused myself to the kitchen to regain my composure. It was then that The Partner came through the door and said, "I just had to stop some SOB from sticking his finger in the shrimp and yet ANOTHER dumbshit spilled his drink in the middle of the floor and fled the scene. These people are freaking ANIMALS." (I use the "all caps" because she shouted the word ANIMALS)

In the middle of her shouting, The Sound Man came into the kitchen and said, "Well dressed... but those are some rude-ass freaking PIGS out there." as he got the mop out of the closet. (Again - all caps for the actual shouting..)

And honestly, if you've gone so far as to piss off The Sound Man, you've got problems. Pissing off The Caterers is easy - they showed up with an attitude. But when you piss off The Fun Loving Music People, you're just a special kind of stupid.

So I went back out to give the OK to start sending people through the line and decided to park my butt in front of the shrimp. I felt like I was part of The Secret Service, ready to give my life for the Safety of The Shellfish. And as I was standing there while The Master of Ceremonies was giving the opening greeting, The Cute Boy Guest reached behind me and grabbed a shrimp. I chuckled at the irony and said, "I so cannot believe you just did that while I am standing here."

"Well just think of me as The Food Tester. And if that shrimp is any indication, the food rocks! And have I told you that you're gorgeous? No, really. You're stunning."

I was gracious while I chuckled and shook my head. "Your compliments are received with gratitude. But if you take another shrimp, you understand that I will be forced to cause you great physical harm, right?"

He laughed, "Point taken my new beautiful food friend. Point taken."

From there things went incredibly smooth, but for some reason the buffet line never got smaller. It was the craziest thing. We knew how many people where there, had a plate count, but it just kept getting longer and longer.

And do you know what we discovered? People were going through for seconds and thirds before some people even went through for the first time.

And that's not something you can police, you can't force a person to use the brain the Good Lord gave them. All you can do is ensure you have enough food, a smile on your face, and a very private place to scream explatives at the top of your lungs.

Posted by Foodwhore at October 15, 2004 09:59 AM

Posted by: TX Friend at October 17, 2004 06:42 PM

Posted by: Elizabeth at October 17, 2004 07:47 PM