Yeah, we're back in that place. Perhaps it's the free-flowing boozeahol at seasonal soirees, the stress of the season or the overwhelming dynamic of the undifferentiated family ego mass that our shrink keeps going on about (at the tune of $100 an hour), but holy heck, have we run into some badly-behaved families out at dinner in the last short while.
Most notably, this past Friday, a multi-generational group of approximately two-dozen people, clearly out for their annual holiday soiree, screamed, bloviated and otherwise harshed the mellow of the other patrons in our local bistro for the better part of an hour, completely oblivious to anyone's happiness but their own. We sat at our table as members of the family smashed up against us, chatting in the aisles, kid picking his nose and licking his finger, adults screeching back and forth over the tops of our heads about health matters, the whereabouts of Rina's coat and where that lazy, lazy waitress was with Grandpa's leftovers.
As said server was impeded in the blocked-up aisles, we sat there, getting hungrier and hungrier, getting whacked on the shoulders by swinging gift bags and increasingly, unwillingly intimate with the minutiae of these strangers' lives as they took their sweet time to collect themselves and leave. By the time the food arrived, our mood was thoroughly spoiled (as we could tell was that of those at tables nearby) and we just wanted to leave.
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