Patience is Golden

Dear Impatient at Isabella's,

I came to enjoy a pleasant afternoon with Funstar, but you ruined it. Everything was going fine until you sat across from us with your bulky leather jacket, harness boots and slicked black hair. Your girlfriend had soft, light brown hair and was dressed in flowing floral clothing. She looked sweet while you looked sour from the moment you sat down.

I could barely focus on my conversation with my friends without hearing you raise your voice at first the busboy, followed by the waitress and then the manager before your food came out.

You may as well have been the big bad wolf threatening the three little pigs.

"If you don't bring out my food, I'll blow this place down!!"

I was afraid you were going to come over to our table -- as we received our food before you-- and knock it out of our mouths.

"They sat down after us and they were served twenty minutes ago!" you pointed at me and growled. I could feel the steam coming out of your ears and nostrils.

I wanted to get up out of my seat and let you know what a Bloody Mary to the face felt like, but Funstar held me back.

I was embarrassed for you and the woman you were with. I hope she wasn't your girlfriend. God bless her if she is! I didn't think it could get any worse until the manager brought out your food and you had the gall to send it back because you lost your appetite.

Thanks Impatient. I too lost my appetite. I hope you'll refrain from eating out in any crowded spaces on your weekends, and most of all I pray you'll stay as far away from me and my friends as possible. Or I might just have to blow you down first.

On behalf of Impatient, I'd like to apologize to the staff of Isabella's. We don't all come to your restaurant expecting fast food delivery. I hope the rest of your afternoon was less painful.

Us New Yorkers tend to get wrapped up in the hectic city life, and we're often thought of as impatient and fast-paced.

Let's try not to sweat the slow stuff.

M