We went to Bush Gardens on Saturday as a reward for Beth’s performance in school this last week. Our Bush Gardens routine involves sleeping in, moseying over just before lunch time, and stopping for a bite to eat for lunch upon entering the park. This time we decided to eat at the Crown Colony Restaurant, at the table service restaurant on the third floor. It was much better than all of the other restaurants I’ve tried in the park. Although, eating something that doesn’t leave me feeling like I’ve just eaten a case of Malox would be an improvement. This was actually pretty good.

But then something happened.

There was a guy sitting with his wife two tables over but in my direct line of sight. He was eating what looked like fried chicken and mashed potatoes. Next to his plate was a gravy boat. He was eating his fried chicken with vigor, so I assumed he was enjoying it. Then, he made a move for his gravy. He picked up the gravy boat and tipped it over his mashed potatoes. This was the first sign of trouble: nothing came out. He was looking right at it when he picked it up, so I’m assuming he would have noticed if it was empty – and he wouldn’t have picked up. No, he knew something was in there. He tipped it a little further … and still nothing came out. After slight hesitation, he whipped that boat like you’d whip a sock coming out of the drier inside out. His whole body was involved in the follow through. As a result, the alleged gravy came out of the boat with the consistency of a tenderized hamster. It plopped out into a crater in his potatoes in one sickening mass. If I was watching from a less advantageous angle, it might have looked like he vomited in his plate. I have no idea what this guy was thinking, but he obviously has lower standards for food than I do. He grabbed his fork with all the subtlety of a plumber wielding his pipe wrench and stirred up the mass of gravy and unsuspecting potatoes with nary a look of displeasure. He was about to take a bite and I had to look away. Through force of will I managed not to look back though the remainder of our stay. It’s a good thing to, failure would have ruined a perfectly good lunch.