The other night we returned back to the restaurant where the term steak tits was coined; I was secretly hoping lightening would strike twice and wasn’t disappointed. Brax Landing is known for its waterside dining, fishy goodness, and, this year anyway, the inspiration to make pure gold come out of the mouth of someone in my family. This time it was my son’s turn to blow our minds.
Many towns on the Cape hire short-term talent from all over the world due to the spike in traffic from vacationers during the summer months. Local residents need jobs year-round and since many of the Cape’s businesses are seasonal, the gap between supply and demand in the summer is filled by young people from places outside the US. Fortunately for us, our waitress that night was from Bulgaria.
My son typically is shy around people he just meets, though he has come out of his shell a lot since starting high school (thank you TCHS theatre program). He’s a charmer—there’s no doubt about that. Someday, I know that his good looks, dry sense of humor, and sensitive disposition will all join forces and make him a true heartbreaker. Wait, scratch that, I can’t imagine him prowling to break hearts. Damnit, I’m digressing. The point is, he typically clams up in front of people he just meets, and this should include attractive waitresses from Bulgaria, but there was something in the air that night at Brax and the kid surprised us all. I kind of wish we named him Fernando so I could really play up an Abba reference here, but my wife and I had agreed on the name Patrick before he was born.
Our waitress came to check on us to make sure everything was going great with our meals, and it was, but I had a question. My ear is usually very good at picking up accents and figuring out where they are from. I knew our waitress was from eastern Europe, but I couldn’t peg the country. I’m inquisitive by nature and no one would ever accuse me of being an introvert so I flat out asked her.
Me: “You have a lovely accent, where are you from?”
Waitress: “I am from Bulgaria.”
What happens next is critical. My son, who I already established as a shy guy, says with eye contact and without skipping a beat, “My physics teacher is from Bulgaria.”
The beauty from Bulgaria smiles and then leaves, likely needing to catch her breath or perhaps wipe face down with a cool towel due to the rush of excitement following such an aggressive come on line delivered by a strapping lad of seventeen. Meanwhile, at the table, his sisters and friend Julia are stunned.
Julia: “Patrick, those are the most words you have ever spoken to a stranger in your life.”
He just smiles back and, in my mind anyway, winks at Julia.
Be on the lookout for Pickup Lines by Patrick to hit bookshelves early next year.
This exchange reminds me of a scene from what should have been an academy award winning movie, but we all know the academy is biased against comedies.