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To
set the scene: Roy is asked to attend a dinner on Saturday
night at that known metrosexual loserville trendite 'happening'
venue in Darlinghurst, 'xxxx xxxx'...
It's
for g*ylords. Period.
The
dinner is for the birthday of a former work colleague of
Roy's chick. In attendance were Roy, his chick, the birthday
chick and several (10) of the birthday chick's colleagues
and miscellaneous other punters. Roy has previously met
none (0) of them. Roy, who is in the midst of training for
a reasonably high level sporting competition and has made
the journey back from Sydney's Northern beaches after a
frustrating day, has consumed at least half a dozen roadies
(read: cans of VB) during the trip home.
To
cut to the chase, Roy orders a bottle of champagne from
the bar, upon which he is informed that none are cold. Apparently
the champagne is being brought in from the restaurant. In
one of Sydney's supposedly better bars, this simply isn't
good enough. To placate Roy, the now cheesy'smiling bartender
offers a cocktail instead. Being in a feisty mood, Roy orders
a Bellini, knowing full well that the crucial ingredient
is champagne. This does not impress the young g*ylord behind
the bar. The drink is not even for Roy, it's for his chick,
who is very keen to get any sort of drink, given that within
ten minutes of arriving, Roy has necked two bottles of Becks
in quick succession to placate his rising levels of anxiety
(at $7.80, this is no placebo).
The
drink finally comes, the girls are happy and Roy begins
to mingle with the clowns at the party. They seem like nice
people, but Roy would rather be at home with a pizza, several
more cans of VB and a rugby league double header on the
box, given that he has to be back on the Northern beaches
by 7am the following day. He cannot, however, relay these
feelings to the chick, who Roy suspects might not agree
with his sentiments...
 Things
begin to get interesting upon entering the restaurant. Roy
takes a position at the end of the table, opposite the chick
and the birthday chick. There is an empty seat next to Roy,
but he does notice a handbag placed strategically to one
side of the setting. The chick's hairdresser sits down next
to Roy in the empty seat and strikes up a conversation.
Roy feels the night picking up' the hairdresser is a lovely
chick and Roy is getting along with her like a house on
fire.
Then
it all goes pear'shaped. Unbeknownst to both Roy and hairdresser,
the seat next to Roy had been 'reserved' (as indicated by
the handbag which, incidentally, Roy figured must have belonged
to the hairdresser) by work acquaintance No 1 (WANO). WANO
was rather animated upon 'her' return to the table to find
'her' seat taken by another person. The hairdresser was
sternly tapped on the shoulder and told in no uncertain
terms about seating etiquette, etc... Roy thought the conversation
was one sided in nature and a bit harsh in content and accordingly
made his feelings known to WANO. At which time WANO launched
a tirade upon the now bemused hairdresser, who promptly
laughed with Roy at the goings on and moved to another seat
at the table...
Roy
was then systematically subjected to the most one'sided
conversation to ever take place' that is, the normally
erudite and well'spoken Roy could not get a word in anywhere.
WANO hated the world and everything in it. Men, sport,
her job, starving children, whatever it was, she was guaranteed
to hate it (she was an in'house lawyer at one of Australia's
most 'respected' insurance/wealth management companies).
The highlight for Roy was without question her obviously
well'practiced shock tactic of stating "I love watching
and following all types of motorbike racing, so everyone
thinks I'm a fat lesb*an."
(Now
this could well have been true, although Roy is not one
to speculate. WANO would have tipped the scales at a conservative
87'90kgs and was certainly no oil painting.)
Roy
took this calmly in his stride and suggested to WANO that
maybe while men within the motorbike'viewing community
may well view her as a 'fat lesb*an', perhaps she should
look outside that peer group to find happiness with a
man. WANO erupted. The amount of vitriol spewing forth
from WANO's mouth would have made a wharfie blush and
toke with gusto on his Winfield Red. In fact, a wharfie
would rather unload a full Ro'Ro (roll on, roll off) car
carrier by himself than deal with the rantings of such
an aggrieved woman.
 Roy
carefully dissolved the wry smile on his face and suggested
to WANO that she was making a mountain from a molehill
and that maybe a trip to the bathroom might be in order.
WANO took Roy's advice and disappeared for a few minutes,
much to everyone at the table's relief. This calm was
to be extremely short lived. Upon WANO's return (maybe
five minutes), Roy was presented with WANO's not'insignificant
back as she turned away and proceeded to act as if nothing
had happened. Roy was not enamoured by this behaviour,
but decided to get himself back in the game nonetheless.
He reached over and tapped WANO on the shoulder, proffered
his hand in forgiveness and suggested that the night had
potentially started on the wrong foot and that maybe it
was worth starting again.
WANO
exploded.
This
time the whole restaurant enjoyed the spectacle' there
were tears, stomping and yelling. At this stage Roy again
suggested the bathroom might be the best place for this
sort of behaviour. WANO responded by notifying Roy that
she thought he was the devil incarnate etc, etc... Only
this time, every female at the table (including Roy's
chick) vacated the table to placate WANO. So Roy calmly
poured himself a glass of cabernet sauvignon and sat back
and enjoyed his own company while every eye in the room
was fixated on him, including the remnants of the table
(who were also whispering to each other and pointing at
Roy discretely across the table). Finally WANO emerged
and high tailed it to the door of the restaurant without
even waiting for her meal to be served. It was fortuitous
that Roy was hungry...
The
night improved from there' it turned out that WANO had
separated from her husband not two months before and was,
in the words of the birthday chick ...going through a
rough patch.... It also became apparent to Roy shortly
after that WANO had been asked to leave a private party
just the night before for similar behaviour.
The
veal was overcooked. Typical.
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