Jack & Rose were never real.

A father and his two girls come in; the amount of personality at this table could knock-out a server on the other side of the restaurant -- a BIG restaurant.

The trio had just arrived from NBC's Titanic Exhibit in Times Square. The girls were excited to show me their 'boarding passes' -- which consisted of real passengers' names who were once aboard the historic vessel. 

For the sake of this story, I introduce Girl1, Girl2 & Cool Dad. 

Cool Dad hands me a Titanic boarding pass. Girl1 & 2 shriek with excitement. 

Girl2: "... and then, and then, after you start going through the exhibit, about half-way through, you find out whether you get to live or not."

I wanted to see this exhibit before today... but the pressure is mounting, now knowing there's the added bonus of who gets rescued and who sinks. 

Girl2, adds: "Don't worry; I know the name on your boarding pass -- you live."

I love this family. 

After talking about everything but food and frozen lemonades, I'm able to grab some orders. Conversation is extremely interesting. My other tables are staring. I'm okay with this.

Then the bomb drops: 

Girl2: "Did you know that Jack and Rose aren't real?"

Girl1: "Yeah, like, they weren't real."

NYC W: "WHAT?!"

Girl2: "Yeah, I know."

Girl1: "Yeah. Not real."

Girl2: "... we almost cried. I think we did a little, actually."

Sadness crawls from my insides-out; did I truly waste eight months of my seventh grade youth in AMC movie theaters, indulging in a FAKE love story? All the Titanic books I checked-out at the library. The playground role-playing: "Jack, never let go!" I even closed my eyes every time the infamous "car scene" steamed in.

Cool Dad hands me a napkin for tears, just in case. He tells me that he used to be a school counselor. I feel validated.

At least four parties would come and go at this very table after Cool Dad & the girls leave. There are more refills, noted special orders, polite conversation, but... I couldn't shake it. 

Jack & Rose were never real. I've been living a lie since seventh grade. Thanks for nothing, James Cameron.

Can I get you a fictitious love story topped with 11 oscars? No, I'll just have the fictional love story, please.

"I can't speak German, but I'm amazing at charades!"

It's like a crackerjack box.. you can't tell by their clothing or their hairstyles.. you just don't know.

For instance:

People from the UK look just like Americans + better posture, usually thinner.

People from Sweden look just like Americans + usually blonde, always thinner.

People from Germany can also look like Americans once they take off their hiking backpacks.

New York City is a melting pot.. and Times Square is a magnet for the jet-lagged foreigners' first stop.

Jet-lagged foreigners = hungry... and for real, greasy, American food.

Step aside Fromers, hello charades. 

NYCWaitress: "Hey, folks! Welcome to Times Square. How're we doing?"

Table of 4: clueless, but smiling. 

-- that's all a server needs to know before it's charades go-time. I usually start with beers. No matter where the table is from, it seems that the english word 'beer' is universal for 'good time'. I'm glad we all agree on this concept.

The remainder of the evening will consist of menu-pointing, drawing pretend check-marks in the air signaling the bill, and explaining how the bathroom is on the complete opposite side of the restaurant -- by crossing legs and making a constipated face, no less. 

I work with many other actors; fellow servers are auditioning for Broadway and beyond, but not me. My acting skills aren't amazing enough to land me a national tour. 

Are you visiting NYC from overseas? Did you bring in a camera bag and plan to upload your restaurant videos on Youtube? Try and challenge me to a game of menu-charades; I'll show you how to sell hot green tea to Helen Keller.

Wo ist das Badezimmer?

"I'm going to tip you in Midwestern dollars."

Party: three people; mother, husband & emo son.

Visiting from: Nebraska.

The story.

The mother's face is stuck in a wild smile, like it's both her name and occupation accompanied by bright-blue eye shadow. The son avoids eye-contact at all costs, with his hands in his lap and his hair covering a good portion of his face. The father gives off the warmest vibes, something that screams Midwest. I decide to begin with an open-mind, generously imagining the starting point of my gratuity. 

Tip Prediction: a possible 20%.

Light talk begins about where they're from -- Nebraska. I notice that the father cannot speak unless one hand is on the top of his belly. We're talking about a large belly, here.

Father: "... people out here just don't understand the real pace of life. You gotta enjoy life, you gotta slow-down, you gotta stay away from these cabs like you got here." This makes me smile on the inside: the pace is what I love about New York.

But, lucky for them, I let them in on a secret: I, too, am a Midwesterner. They name towns near where I grew-up. We're bonding. The excitement raises with the tip meter prediction.

New TP: BINGO -- solid 20%.

The meal arrives; all three seem to be happily shoveling and indulging upon my recommendations. I notice that the awkward teen is eating mashed potatoes with a butter knife. He occasionally shoots dirty looks at his smiling mother. I find a challenge in opening this kid up.

I immediately regret this most recent challenge. Emo Nebraska kid now stops eating when I make a joke about accidently cutting his tongue while eating the potatoes; his mother continues to smile. I'm uncomfortable. 

In between checking on other tables, I keep darting over to their facial expressions. I am now thinking that the mother's smile is either permanent or a facial disfiguration. The corners of her lips don't fall, and the arches of bright-blue pigment on her lids seem to be getting brighter. The light is blinding. Midwesterners + blinding light = Jesus. I am now imagining Jesus enjoying a nice mashed potato, via butter knife. I smile.

I drop the check at the table.

NYC Waitress: "If ya'll have any questions about anything, let me know... these things can be confusing."

Father: "Oh, I think we'll be alright, you've been so right-nice to us all evening. I only hope we can find another person in this city with half your kindness."

Father: "I only wish we could pay you in New York dollars."

NYCW: "Come again?" 

Father: "You know, it's not the same out here as it is back home. I just wanted you to know that before we left the tip. You were amazing. I'm going to tip you in Midwestern dollars.. and tell you again how wonderful you are."

I immediately revisit tip prediction mode; their bill is $116. I decide to abandon predicting the tip. 

The family leaves, quickly. The mother waves goodbye as they hit the stairs for the decent back into Times Square. I wave back, smiling her smile. I look at the signed credit card slip left for my enjoyment. 

There's a smiley face on the top of the slip. For some reason, it makes the $6 in Midwestern dollars much friendlier. I can't help to be upset; in truth, the exchange-rate/expectation among the regions in the United States greatly vary. 

I'm wondering if I can pay my back-July rent in Midwestern dollars. Standby for results.

Can I get you a fork to eat your mashed potatoes, Jesus?

Salt & Pepper Side-Work TRICK

If you're a good person, you won't do this. I've been a zone captain at the end of the night, and would happily have towel-whipped any server who thought this was a good idea.

Why share the secret? Why not pass the moral dilemma on to you? This is New York City.. why not?

SALT AND PEPPER SIDE-WORK TRICK
Objective: to make salt/pepper shakers look full when they're actually... not.
Difficulty: easy
Time: 5 seconds per shaker
Evaluate: If the salt/pepper is too low, it may be difficult. You can always try the trick and if it doesn't work, stop being a lazy sonofauh and just refill it, oldschool.
Directions: With your palm, tightly cover the holes on the top of the shaker. With your other hand, grab the shaker and slowly turn it upside-down, while keeping  it plugged. Give it a few good downward shakes into your palm. Slowly turn shaker right side-up, with palm still covering holes. Remove palm when shaker is right side-up. Check salt/pepper level. Awesome. 

Additional note: if you're in my zone tonight, I'll be slamming all the salt & pepper shakers on the table a few times -- just to remind you what a bad person you are if you do this.

Can I get you a side of dishonesty with those poor, side-work morals?

The Inaugural Dish

As a waiter or waitress, you'll meet and serve the most interesting people.

In Times Square, you'll meet the most annoying, selfless, obnoxious, kind-hearted people.. with the occasional "walk-out".

On a nightly basis, the craziest things happen in Times Square. As I wake up at 3:30pm in order to shower and get dressed for the dinner rush, I've decided I must begin what will forever be known as: nycwaitress.blogspot.com.

I must share these stories of love, disaster, and the downright unbelievable.

Would you like that fried or broiled?