There are times when nothing less will do than a proof beverage and an order of fries.

Heads up neophytes, ginger is not a substitute for proof alcohol.  “An extra shot of ginger”, she said.  For the ginger tea she ordered.  I’m on my 2nd martini and contemplating an order of fries and can’t stop an audible chuckle.  I’m not so far gone that the awkward moment escapes me, so I quickly look down with an extra stern glance at my phone and throw in another chuckle so they wouldn’t feel I was laughing at them.  It’s 6:00 on the other side of a long work day.  Ginger? 

The serving board has been in front of them for 20 minutes.  They’ve each had 2.  Fries. Thick cut. The color of toasted wheat. I can see from here the dusting of large crystals of finishing salt. Same women who asked for extra ginger for their already ginger tea.  Why did they order the fries if not to eat them, one after another in something of a rapid succession?

I’m sharing the trunk table with the ladies, and as they discuss whether it’s a Restoration Hardware product, they speak fast and animatedly like I would after a few ginger teas with healthy splashes of vodka.  And the fries?  They sit neglected and now cold.  Unappetizing.  Understand that I would eat them, but it’s sadly apparent that the women will not, and the fries will be tossed.  In the garbage.  Aside like red meat left in the back seat of a hot car.  Sad.  I can’t take the irritation of the situation any longer so I tab out.  They look up as opposed to re-discovering the desperately wilting fries. An awkward sob escapes me as I walk out.   


An Order of Beautiful, Golden, tragically abondoned French Fries

The Fries


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