The NH Stories – The Donkey Bake
On the last day of Donk and family’s recent East Coast trip, we stayed in Boston. I had been really looking forward to hitting the Freedom Trail, and since we got into town a bit later than expected, I perhaps unfairly (considering half of our group was indifferent at best about walking 3 miles in the heat to visit some old buildings and gravestones) pushed everyone out of the hotel immediately to go on what was really my own personal pilgrimage.
But I got what I deserved.
As I said before, it was extremely hot and a tad muggy that day. Soon most of us, myself included, were feeling tired and starved for some lunch. So we decided to stop near Faneuil Hall in the North End to grab some grub. It was the day before the 4th of July, so all of the restaurants in the area were packed. Finding a seafood place that looked pretty good, we quickly ducked out of the heat and walked down some stairs, only to find that the cramped bar area was crowded, hot, and humid as a son-of-bitch. We could see a small dining area in the back, and asked the waitress if it was any cooler back there.
“No,” she said, “You’re probably better off up on the patio.”
So we trudged back up the stairs and back out into the burning sunshine. As we approached the table we were to be seated at, we all noticed that two of the chairs were exposed to the sunlight. Everyone groaned. Farmer Vincent, always the gentleman, volunteered to sit in one and, feeling bad for dragging everyone out on my jog down history lane, I volunteered to sit in the other.
Within minutes, the sun had shifted and Farmer Vincent was over half in the shade. I, however, was in my own personal version of hell. Not only was the sun beating square on my shoulders, but worse yet I was seated next to my mother, The Great Comforter. In her quest to make me feel better, she only succeeded in adding to my misery. First, she kept telling me over and over again that I should try to scoot over into the shade, despite me clearly demonstrating to her that I couldn’t scoot over enough. Then, (and I really don’t know what she was thinking here) she started rubbing my sweaty, turgid back and neck until it was all I could do to not scream out in anguish: “Christ, why have You forsaken me!”
When the meals finally came, I stared down at my “Seafood Bake,” a sick feeling forming in the pit of my stomach. The last thing that sounded appealing at that moment was a superheated dish of seafood, yet I knew if I didn’t eat it I’d regret it later. So I gingerly spooned the bits of scallop, shrimp and seasoned crumbs into my mouth and forced myself to swallow. It was unfortunate too, because under normal circumstances it would have been quite tasty.
As the meal ended, I rose uneasily to my wobbly feet and practically dashed into the shade of a tree as my two nephews went back downstairs into the restaurant to use the bathroom. As I stood there, wishing for sweet death, The Great Comforter asked me over and over again if “I was going to be alright.” I looked around for a blunt object to beat myself to death with.
When my two nephews came back upstairs, I received my final confirmation that this had indeed been the act of a vengeful God, punishing me for dragging my family around Boston.
“Ya know,” one of my nephews said. “That waitress downstairs lied to us. The indoor dining room is nice and cool.”
Thanks for the laughs!
Donk’s pleasure!!
Your stories seem as though they are out of a book
I love it.
Um, the “sun beating square on [your] shoulders”? Since when do you where sleeveless tops?!?
PAGAN – the sun was so hot it was beaming right through the material of my shirt. But that aside – you know darn well i cut the arms off of all of my shirts to display my mammoth guns
poor donk!!! What an evil waitress.
It probably served me right. Note to self – Karma is real
Yeah i sat in front of the fire once when I was young and it had the same effect on me – I feel your anguish big fella!
Did your face bubble and slough off from the heat like mine did??
Glad you got out of there before everyone had ‘Baked Sosa” for dessert.
Actually, “Baked Sosa” ain’t that bad. It’s the famed “Sosa Cheese” that you need to be worried about.
I am always a gentleman. That fish you were eating was reportedly good, but under the burning sun it looked like the worst lunch ever.
if only you k new just how hard it was to keep that seafood bake down my brutha
oh my, that waitress lied to you….LOL
If i wouldn’t have been about to pass out from heat stroke, i woulda gone and yelled at her
Evil wench! But excuse me while I have a good laugh at your expense.
go ahead. i deserve it
This was such a cute story, the first thing I would have done is tell the manager how unenjoyable the food was in the hot sun. Then credit his waitress for you never returning.
Not to take anything away from your heat stroke, but I hope you atleast made it to the Freedom Trail. By the way, if you can get me that waitress’ name and address, I know people who know people who once knew another person, etc. She could be rubbed out in no time flat.
Yes, I did get to see the Freedom Trail! Most of the family went back to the hotel after lunch but Claire, Mrs. Donk and myself continued on. It was awesome!
I enoyed finishing your lunch – it tasted much better under the umbrella, where I was seated.
Ass
The thought of seafood in the sun, makes me a little queezy as well, but your story was great. Although I’m not surprised about the waitress, sounds like a typical Fanueil Hall biatch, But I’m glad you enjoy the Freedom Trail.
The Freedom Trail was awesome
lol the waitress probably did it on purpose. a very bostonian thing to do…
MERRI – I have NO DOUBT that she did it on purpose