Rudeness vs Tolerance

So there I was.

I had decided this past Sunday to take my wife to a restaurant which advertised extraordinary ribs. It was 35 miles away and not known for its rock-bottom prices. In fact, the tab for two appetizers, one adult beverage, one iced tea, two entrees and one dessert was $94.78.

All during dinner there was a small child in the next room which would shriek at regular intervals at the top of her lungs. Not just yell; oh no. I mean shriek: the kind of ear-piercing shriek that would be typified by old Memorex ads where the speakers blow ties, lamps and martinis back. The kind of shriek that cracks glass. The kind of shriek that cannot be reproduced by human beings at any other age. She wasn't being hurt; she wasn't being repressed. She just wasn't getting her way.

The kind of shriek that, at my age, literally lances my eardrums and causes me to cover my ears and become nauseous. The kind of shriek that ruins my dinner and that of all of those around me.

After an amazingly-tolerant half hour of this, I dropped my fork, stood up, and ventured into the adjacent room. There I witnessed one young well dressed white male, one well dressed white female, and one small 1.5-year-old female child in a high chair.

Most of the tables in this room were unoccupied. Three were occupied.

I strode up to their table and announced in my best "outside voice":

"I'm sure you're wonderful parents. But I am not paying a massive tab to hear your kid scream and disturb me and everyone else in this restaurant. I think it's time to take your kid outside."

I did what every other male in that restaurant wanted to do, lorded over by their females. I was the only one with sufficient balls to state the obvious. As I turned and left I could feel daggers piercing my back. I didn't give the parents time to respond. The guy made some noise.

A short time later the male took the kid outside, then came back a few minutes after that. They left the restaurant within ten minutes. I applauded slowly and loudly. I received a number of glares and, on the other hand, a number of sly half-smiles from other tables. Mostly from men.

Oddly enough, the tables closest to the damned noise were the quietest.

But let me make this explanation if I might for those of you parents who might possibly be applicable:

My job is not to "socialize" your kid. My job is not to tolerate your kid. My job is not to look the other way or forgive.

Instead, my job is to take my wife to a nice dining experience and to expect an environment where we can enjoy the dollars we contribute to this choking economy.

To the applicable parents: if you want to socialize your kid do it on your own time and at lesser venues. Do it at McDonald's. Do it at Denny's. More importantly: do it at HOME.

Because, at my age, I don't care what people think of me. Rude is rude and ignorant is ignorant. I know it when I see it.

Am I sufficiently blunt? Because I want to be clear.

BZ