Hangin' in the diner

This morning, Reilly and I ventured back to the local diner for another father and daughter breakfast. We chose the same table, had the same waitress, and nearly the same breakfast, though this time I got Reilly rye toast instead of a biscuit. Reilly has been devouring bread lately, and after some trial and error, I've found she likes rye and pumpernickel best. When she was over at my mom's the other day, she was eating marble rye like it was going out of style.

Since it was so early, there were only a few other customers there--a table of two next to us and a bearded man at the bar. Reilly was on her best behavior this morning, which really means that I was giving her my undivided attention. For the majority of the time, I distracted her with my orange juice. Since Reilly eats so much fruit, we never give her fruit juice--it would be redundant. But on special occasions I go ahead and let her take some sips from my straw. She was enamoured with my orange juice, and it is funny--though we don't give her juice, she knew the word, and would point to my glass and command me for more "juisss."

Due to Reilly's quiet state and the relative emptiness of the diner, the place was relatively silent, which is why when the bearded man at the counter started yelling at the waitress, it jolted me out of my happy father and daughter moment. I could hear the man babbling something about "If you make me lose my job, I'll make you lose your job." The waitress was politely laughing at him, probably because she had no idea if this guy was kidding or serious. Unfortunately, the laughing enraged him, and she shouted, "Don't laugh at me!"

At this point I instinctively started to get up from my chair, but then I saw Reilly--hesitated--and sat back down. Normally, I would have got up and walked over to see if I couldn't help diffuse the situation, but with Reilly at the table with me, I was caught in a sort of quandary of responsibility. Help the waitress, or protect my daughter? By sitting back at the table, I showed you where my priorities are, but as I sat there, I was truly divided of mind.

(I should pause here and say that though I might be coming off as some sort of macho man here, I'm really not, and I've never been in a fight in my entire life, but at the same time, I'm not going to let some weird bearded dude physically harm the waitress.)

After the whole "Don't laugh at me!" line, and the dead silence that ensued in the restaurant, the bearded man realized he had gone too far, got up from his stool and left. I'm not quite sure if he paid his bill, which might have been the reason for the outburst in the first place.

A short time later, the male owner of the restaurant showed up, no doubt to protect the two waitresses and the matron behind the counter who clearly saw that if things got hairy, no one would come to help them.