The Drunk and the Brit

My wife and I are at Lake Tahoe for our wedding anniversary. We drove up from our home this morning, arriving in time for an early lunch. A late lunchtime beer and snack meant that we had no need to eat until relatively late. We had dinner reservations for tomorrow, so tonight a less formal venue appealed. We found a highly rated BBQ serving bar.

The notice inside in the door instructed as to wait to be seated. The bar was right inside the door and the barman told us he would be with us in a minute. He rushed off into a back room, presumably to check on other guests. We waited; we were not in a rush. Then one of the bar patrons, who had either been there for a whole, or consumed drinks at an alarming rate, pointed us to the menus and indicated a booth across the room. We followed his advice. He then wandered over and was about to take a drinks order. At this point the actual bartender arrived and intervened.

He took our drinks order and a few minutes later came back to order our food. In the midst of our order I used some British turn off phrase. He laughed and said “Damn Brits”, before asking where in England I was from. I told him I was born in London, but brought up in Suffolk. He said he was from Isleworth (West London). He had moved from the UK twenty years ago from Hounlsow.

Must have been a hard choice; Hounslow or the middle of the Sierra Nevada mountains by the sapphire beauty of Lake Tahoe.

Published in: on 6 October, 2012 at 19:32  Leave a Comment  

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