Land Before Chocolate

Last Edit February 15, 1999

It's Crabby Monday III in which five of us descend on the folks at Red Lobster.
And Chris (we call him Scott for reasons I cannot decipher) is as chipper as ever. Keeping the podium between us at all times. He then takes great pleasure in telling us it is a busy night and we will have a 40 minute wait.
I am in a coma.
I have just taught day 1 of a 3-day seminar that I have not taught for 4 months and it is the last time I teach this class. It is the first time I have taught sine the surgery. I am only now cleared to lift 10 lbs. I am supposed to work out. I consider walking round and round the classroom for 8 hours to be working out. I know my legs do.
The class is the CBA Design System class and I am teaching Siemens engineers and some of our own. Structured design methodology - how do build an ASIC IC from A-Z in 2.5 days. No wonder I get tired.
I am an active lecturer - and woefully out of condition for it this week. I pace, I gesture, I move, I circle the room to check on labs and keep them on track, I have no assistant. By the end of class I am exhausted.
Check that. I am unconscious.
My son and his manager are reciting Monty Python skits - word by word. This week, they do not launch sweet and low. They are relatively behaved.
The waitress [read server] takes pity on me and rushes me some decaf. And a second cup freshly made. I have consumed the old stuff and the new in rapid succession. Caffeine is required. Anyway I can get it.
She said I looked like I needed it.
One thing about old age, when you are tired......
My makeup has run into my eyes and my legs hurt. I have taken an Alieve - because I know what pain follows. Screaming muscles declare war about 2AM.
I am trying to stay awake while my son speaks into his fork.
During our 40-minute wait we could not sit quietly. No, No. Not us. We had entertained the lobby by providing voices for the tanked lobsters. (Crayfish).
"Help! Help! Don't Eat Me!"
A little girl near by had one removed from the water so she could pet it. Then she tried to hear it talk. Various patrons were giving us the evil eye.
Lobsters scream when cooked if you just drop them into boiling water. Unless you stick them between the eyes with an icepick.
I don't eat lobster. I now never will!
We have by now also discussed boiling pigs. I'll skip that part. I was trying not to toss the coffee.
I eat food but I expect it to be killed in a humane way. A clean kill. Else I'll stay on vegetables.
I was born on a chicken farm. I am familiar with the mass execution of chickens. My Father would chop their heads off in one blow. The fact that the body ran around the yard for an hour afterward was not his fault. To this day my five year old eyes hold that image. And project it at random intervals. Chickens have always figured in our humor somewhere.
Except the Christmas my first husband gave me an orange-dyed chicken head scarf - a bright triangle of cotton covered in chicken feathers. To this day I cannot figure out what on earth he was thinking.
And of course my children with their surgical-glove giant chicken dance at the hospital has to come to mind....
I worry about how crabs are handled.
They assure me that they are freeze dried on the boat. Flash freeze.
OK. I'll buy that.
We check this out with the seater. She assures us that the crabs do not suffer - because she is of like mind. She also assures us that the lobsters are properly terminated before hitting the pots. No screaming in Red Lobster's kitchen!
Good.
Dan discovers ice in his salad. By the forth such cube he decides that, having discovered ice, he should now build an aquaduct. With his water glass. A grown man.
I am by now on my third cup of decaf (sorry Fabio!). They are taking care to keep my cup filled. I am eating my salad.
Dan then announces that his is stiff. His cracker that is. This leads to the table discovering that all of them are. And if handled right, they will stay that way all night.
I ignore this and finish my salad.
They, as a group, withdraw my son from soda. He is too hyper.
But Dan is the one who discovers that he has a rusty bottom. In his bucket.
Legs have arrived. They clear the table. Salads, rolls, etc. Are moved out of the way.
My son, having more or less survived finals (only a few failures), is wired higher than a kite.
Dan complains that the legs are stiff. New ones are coming.
My son plays holy water with his coke and blesses his crab legs before eating.
We discuss the Energizer bunny. The marketing image that goes on and on. And on.
I said that they were going to stop the marketing program which had supposedly run its course but the damn bunny was so popular (it now is available in toy stores) that they made a whole battery of new ones.
Well, they did. The level of the conversation has disintegrated further.
"Don't wave your meat in my face" echoes across the room.
I cry foul.
I am reminded we are eating fish.
The group is, for some strange reason, not as voracious tonight. There are only four of them. I remain on Mahi-Mahi or a combo of Mahi-Mahi and shrimp, butterflied. And salad. And broccoli. I am well behaved. I Can't Believe It's Not Butter wouldn't melt in my mouth!
I am now up to my 5th cup of decaf. I can just hear the lecture if Fabio knew! Everyone tells me he is right. And fetch me another cup.
How many cups of decaf equal one cup of real coffee? Try 2:1. I am way over my caffeine limit!
The tendons are talking again. They do that when my son slows down in his consumption of crab legs.
The waitress, taking care that we don't run out, drop one platter on top of another. \My son begins screaming "Help Me! Help Me! In a crab voice. A small leg was trapped.
His food now has a life of its own.
Rebirth.
The leg is mangled.
The waitress pats his shoulder, "It's late". Waitresses have taken to paying way too much attention to my big and tall boy. He's too good looking by half. Oh dear.
Dan tells my son to keep his meat from between the platters.
This digresses to various remarks that involve meat and Monica.
She's still in the news!
Aren't her 15 minutes up?
And if not, what else is up?
Dan keeps pulling limp things out of sockets. The warmer the legs the easier the meat comes out. Crab meat that is.
This leads to some additional x-rated double meaning expressions which leads to more silliness.
I feel the need to censure them
They then start in on the crab leg tools.
The crab leg unzip tool. The cracker. The well-guarded manufacturer is attacked by a hacker who cracks it apart. He demonstrates.
My son has been into crushing things all day.
77 disposable cameras have come into the camera store today. My son, unable to find the battery access panel, became frustrated and jumped on one of these plastic boxes. There were fragments everywhere. 237lbs on a tear can wreck havoc. I know this.
Dan, in retaliation, rigged the rest of the cameras to flash when my son hit them (hitting being somehow involved in high-speed battery removal. My son was looking for speed.)
Rapping them is the preferred technique. Not likely. Not after finals.
Meanwhile, they have run out of crab legs.
Not good.
They deteriorate when not busy.
More legs arrive.
Hot legs.
Did you know sharks urinate through their skin? It's why shark meat is pungent.
And I love black-tip shark.
Or did.
On this note, the group has slowed down.
They are all still recovering from Super Bowl Sunday.
Too much junk food.
Too many pretzels and popcorn and cracker and cheese.
So they decide on desert.
Egad.
My son perks up. He is crabbed out.
They go for fudge overboard. I can't face anything else.
I had my Medifast. I had almonds when I stopped at the house. I require nuts at the end of the month. For some reason.
I just do.
Don't go there.
We discuss cats. Probably because everyone's cat will have a bite of crab legs tonight. I just hope I remember it is in my purse. I am sure Ranger will remind me.
We discuss 101 uses for a dead cat. The medical anomaly of cats. The gremlin run. I am glad that behavior is normal. I was worried about Ranger.
The fudge horror arrives. I have to arm wrestle my son for a taste. Never get between a woman and chocolate. No. No. No.
Dan reminds my son of certain finer points of existence.
Women need chocolate. Especially when it is in front of them.
Ditto coffee. (Sorry Fabio)
And never, ever use the pretty towel.
They have caved in at 23 crab leg assemblies.
No where near their previous record.