davethegrinch.net

Sarah says:

 

Date – Saturday, September 22, 2007

Time – 8:30pm

Location – Frenzi http://www.frenzi.nl/, a lovely little restaurant serving Mediterranean fare.

Good ideas based on information had at the time:

1. wear a white shirt and brown leather belt to accentuate new brown, leather knee-high boots

2. rest the hard-cover wine list behind the salt & pepper shakers and bottle of olive oil

3. have a glass of red wine

 

David reaches for bottle of olive oil.

 

Salt & pepper shakers do not hold up hard-cover wine list.

 

Wine list falls into glass of red wine.

 

Full glass of red wine topples over in slow motion.

 

The glass shatters.

 

I look like Carrie.

 

The entire restaurant gasps……

 

Red wine is dripping, dripping, dripping from the table edge, the edge of my chair. It is much colder than it should be. And in much greater quantity than I thought. Good value for money, I suppose.

 

 

David and I are both shocked. People are running all around us. Gasps, stares, laughter, whispers. But we just stare at each other.

 

 

I push my chair back. I am surrounded by waitresses. I am escorted down to their supply room. I am given a waitress shirt to change in to. They will wash my shirt for me. They are being very nice to me.

 

 

Then, I notice that I have a napkin in my hand and the wine I’m wiping from my hands isn’t wine colored. Is that blood?

 

 

I remove the napkin. All three waitresses nearly vomit. They cover their mouths and turn away. You can see fat deposits. Several layers deep. You could call it a gash. A gape, a gape like PacMan’s mouth.

 

 

Oh wow.

 

 

“You must come up to the kitchen. The chef will know what to do.”

 

 

I am in the small kitchen. One chef is attending to me. The other is preparing dinner for the entire restaurant. I am in the way and the floor is very slippery. Nice chef is washing my thumb, being very kind, drying it off, preparing a butterfly for me. I am in the other chef’s way.

 

 

David appears. Apparently, the Dutch waitress said to him, “It is very deep. I want to call you a cab to go to the hospital.”

 

 

That’s right folks. I would be my 3^rd visit since we left home, if anyone is counting.

 

 

But, alas, we think things are already congealing. The human body is amazing.

 

 

Then suddenly, chef whose way I’m in starts yelling. There is food up and no one is taking it. Turns out our appetizers are ready. “It is OK, this food is for them (pointing to David and I)”. Something in Dutch yelled back. “But it is for them so it doesn’t matter!”

 

 

We decide to stay. Nice chef has made a beautiful butterfly bandage. Things are already healing. I put on the waitress shirt. I return to the table in my new outfit and the restaurant cheers.

 

 

I order another glass of wine.

 

 

And this is my thumb now (click for the gory detail):

 

This entry was posted on Saturday, September 29th, 2007 at 2:11 am and is filed under Amsterdam, Global Travels. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.