Dear 18+ year old Ham,
So I was a hundred percent sure that your dad had not had the same love lightening bolt strike him that had apparently struck me. And while I typed in his table's order, I thought about what I might say to him to get his attention.
But I came up with nothing.
I checked on my other tables and when thier drinks where ready I loaded them up on my tray and carried them over to thier table. I handed out all of thier drinks and I purposely handed your dad his drink last.
If there was going to be an opportunity to talk to him, it would have been right at that moment.
And as I handed him his Becks, I said the only thing that came to my mind.
"And one Becks - which is by far the worst beer ever invented."
Yes. I said that. Of all the things to get your dad's intention, I used an insult. Honesty is my shining quality.
The worst beer ever invented. Yes, sir the one that you picked.
Your dad whipped his head around and looked directly at me. "What?"
I smiled sheepishly and said, "Yes, well it is. I might as well back up my claim. I mean, who drinks that anyway. Obviously your dad does."
In my defense it was true. It was, in my opinion, the skunkiest of all beers and that's the nicest way I could put it. So, I was wondering what did this say about Mr. Yardbird drinking the worst, skunkiest beer around?
"It's my favorite. I love Becks." He smiled at me waitng to see what I could possibly come up with after that.
"Well I think it's the worst....so I guess we can't be friends." I smiled right back and turned on my heels to walk back to my other tables.
And that, Hammy, is how I got your dad's attention. Now, that I had that - what was the next part of the plan?
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