Daniel to server: “I’m goin’ commando. My mother forgot to pack my underwear. It’s thurfree days now.”
I give him the Death Stare across the table, which he pretends not to see.
20 yo Server: “Well, that’s not good. You need underpants But I like your tattoos. They’re pretty cool. I love dragons. Are they REAL????”
Daniel: “My mudder spends money on some stuff, like my tattoos. They ARE real. And ice cream and candy. She fed me ice cream all day today while she drank wine on the boat. This is my first real food since breakfast. But she said she wasn’t going to spend $17 on boxers so I have to go commando.”
Server: “Well, I guess we all have our priorities” as she wanders off and returns with an entire BOWL of maraschino cherries for him (like they’re a fruit, with nutritional value).
In my head: “Listen you anorexic, overtanned, underemployed double major in philosophy and history, give MOTHERHOOD a try before you judge. It’s not like Kohr Bros. sells BROCCOLI cones. And he’s been wearing freaking bathing suits at the beach, in pools and on boats for the past halfa week, under which the flannel boxers he wanted at Life Is Good would look pretty stupid. And you’ve never seen a henna tattoo? Go get me a bourbon.”
In reality: “Thanks.” Big sigh. “He loves those things.”
School really, really needs to start. Really. — in Stone Harbor, NJ.