Oh, and when I finally planted my bony posterior into what could be one of the most uncomfortable chairs, I decided to check on whether Mr. Numbskull’s still alive; I was half-hoping though he got swept up by an asteroid. And goodness was I shocked with what I beheld.A throng of passing Korean tourists requested for a photo-op with him!
I cringed as I watched the excited Koreans pose beside him. The arrangement was like this: 2 Koreanas on his left side making “peace” signs with their pallid fingers, 2 Koreanos on the other side while our hero dunked one hand into the water (the other wagging), smiling before the camera! Geezzzzuusss!
They must be very amused with the jerk. They must be thinking, “These Filipino people sure are a ridiculous bunch! Full-grown people making a total fool out of themselves!”
Anyway…
The neon-clad, Mafia-lord-slash-lost golfer-slash-waiter approached my table and handed me the menu. “Good afternoon, Sir!” he croaked. I glanced at the menu for awhile, and handed it back to him.
“Coffee, please…”
“Ai Sir!” he said, scratching his head. “We're really sorry, sira po kasi yung brewing machine namin…”
“What!? No Coffee!? Do you have any idea how much hell I went through just to have coffee!? Do you want me to kick your behind all the way to
I, then, pulled down my pennon, and heaved a sigh of defeat. Just my luck, I thought.
Now the last retort, having coffee while beret-donning waitresses scamper about. I marched towards the French coffee shop, held my breath and walked in. Bonjour Monsieur!
Good, there’s coffee! Now, if I could just find some Visine.
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