A Coke in a Bowl

Author: Kara Mae Adamo.

 So my friend Kat just texted me. The text was simple: she wanted to tell me A.) that she misses me (I miss you, too, buddy!!), and B.) that, tonight, a customer ordered a Miller Lite and asked that she serve it in a wine glass.

This, of course, hurts my brain. First of all, even if wine glasses were designed to enhance the flavors in beer (which they are not), why would anyone want to enhance the flavor of a Miller Lite?

Second—well, actually, there is no “second.” That’s pretty much it. Gross beer served the wrong way. The sommelier student inside of me is cringing and the general public prevails again.

Which brings me to my next story…

One time, about a year ago, my roommate Kira (yep, Kira and Kara…I know, I know.) was serving a table. It was a slow and peaceful Sunday afternoon and one of my favorite managers at the time (Roney) was working that night. Place me, relatively calm, at the doorway of the kitchen, gazing out into the abyss.

Suddenly, something brushes past me in a whirlwind of angst.

I turn as Kira shoots through the kitchen in a fury like hell hath no. She starts clanging dishes around and dumps a coke down the drain. I tilt my head to watch her.

She hunts down a soup cup, fills it with ice and fills it further with coke.

I continue to stand quietly off to the side, watching her. When she drops a straw into the soup cup and spins around I go, “Umm—Kira?”

“Stupid F$#king B*tch,”

“Kira?”

“A F$#king coke in a bowl? Are you kidding me??”

“KIRA WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU??”

Kira, whose face at this point is as red as her hair, goes “This crazy b*tch at my table wants a COKE in a BOWL!”

I blinked. “What?”

Kira waves her hand furiously out the doorway of the kitchen. “A coke in a bowl!”

I stammer. “She…she doesn’t mean, like, a cappuccino mug or something?”

“Nope. She wants a coke in a bowl with ice and a straw,” Kira says, mimicking the process with her hands.

My mouth drops. “Oh my god. Please let me take this to her,” I request.

Kira hands me the tray. I begin to bubble with joy at the prospect.

Gleefully, I frolic past Roney-the-Manager, who instantly does not trust my sudden happiness.

“What are you up to?” He asks with uncertainty.

“I’m making our customers happy…you know…so this is ‘their favorite place to eat, drink and be with friends,’” I reply innocently, quoting the restaurant’s “Goal for Our Customers.”

Now he really doesn’t trust me.

So Roney and Kira follow me to the table.

Elated, I place the bowl down in front of the lady, who looks at it and goes “what is this?”

I respond, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, with “It’s your coke in a bowl, ma’am…just like you ordered.” (toothy smile)

She goes “I didn’t order this.”

Her friend then leans in and says “Yes, you did—you said you wanted a coke in a bowl with some ice and a straw.”

The lady turns on her friend and says “in a BOWL…with a STEM.”

Kira steps up and asks, warily, “…a wine glass?”

The lady points to a wine glass on the table next to them and says “like that!”

I can no longer contain myself.

I bust out laughing right in front of the table.

I turn and run off, leaving Roney, who is also laughing, to tend to their needs.

You can’t make this stuff up. It’s not possible. Your brain would turn into ice cream and melt out your ears or something.

I told this story to my friend James, whose reply was: “If the matrix was real…she would be garbage collected.”

That made the nerd in me giggle.