I worked at the Red Key tonight, as I do most Saturday's.
I usually have fun at work, even though I work my ass off when I'm there.
I am the waitress and the cook.
The tavern is fairly small, just 13 tables -- not that there is a #13, we skip from 12 to 14.
It feels awful darn big when the place is full and you're cooking also.
I never use the table numbers. if I don't know folks names, I make one up.
Some of tonight's tickets were labeled:
MHB (for Mr. Hamburger).
CS (Cub's Shirt).
CB (Cute Boy).
BH (Butt Head -- actually I know his name but BH is much more descriptive).
My parents, sister Beth and brother-in-law Ron came in tonight. They had all been to the Easter Vigil mass, Dad at St. Joseph's in Lebanon and Mom, Beth and Ron at St. Pius X where Mom works.
I loved hearing their laughter, but felt like Cinderella.
I broke a big rule and kept the kitchen open two hours late, knowing that they were coming. Since I was cooking for them I felt like I needed to offer food to everyone else.
8 burgers, a BLT, and tenderloin later...
Several police cars came screaming by the bar around 1:30, then one drove around the block shining their spotlight in the alley.
Jake and I locked the doors to the bar.
When even more police cars raced by and the helicopter flew over it was starting to get a little scary.
And I'm not easily rattled.
Since all of the cars were headed toward my house, Jake followed me home to make sure I made in to the house okay.
The helicopter is still hovering, shining a big light in backyards. I wish I knew what is going on.
I'm going to try to ignore all of the hubub and go to sleep...with the lights on.