I Am The King of Dining and Ditching
January 16th, 2007
Now you see me…now you don’t.
It’s a phrase I would gladly have printed up on a black t-shirt in white lettering in a Times New Roman font that I would wear during my day to day doings…if I wanted to give away my juice. It would simply state the obvious about me and my king-like skillz. It could be my rallying cry, it would be my mantra, and it would possibly, potentially, most assuredly be the one phrase directing my actions throughout my life. But most of all, it would communicate one very simple thing…
That I am the king of dining and ditching.
If you’ve ever seen me doing what I do best, you’ve probably marveled at the complexity of my racket. Sitting there, in my local Denny’s, with plates upon plates of fried calamari and fire chicken wings littering the table — next to egg dishes, malts and fries. You’ve seen the coffee cups and the empty soup bowls, the generosity with which I send free drinks to people throughout the establishment… You’ve seen the check arrive at the end of the evening…
…but then you blink and I’m gone.
That’s because I am the king of dining and ditching. The king of licking and leaving. The king of consuming and con-zooming away. The king of chomping and romping. The king of imbibing and fast-driving. The king of chewing and eschewing. The king of swallowing and not-wallowing. The king of ordering and slaughtering. The king of eating and beating (it). The king of…well…
Dining and ditching.
Not everyone has the moxie to do it. Not everyone knows just how to go about it. Not everyone has a getaway driver, an ability to order the most expensive combination of dinner dishes without having a story that makes it all seem normal (“I’m currently training for the 2008 North Korean eating championship”), or that “eye of the diner” that keeps waitresses from second-guessing your ingestion-intentions.
But I do.
Stick me in any booth, anywhere, in any restaurant and watch me go. Fill up the place with crowds of people, birthday parties, sports fanatics and watch me shine. Let me loose in an empty restaurant where I’m the only patron and there’s over fifteen staff members just hanging around the front door smoking some cigarettes. Then watch as I order three entres, two appetizers, four drinks, two sundaes and a to-go container and disappear into the night…
…without paying one damn cent to “the man.”
I may not be proud about being the king of dining and ditching… But, actually — I am. If world-reknowned thieves can be world-reknowned for stealing famous paintings from famouser museums, then why can’t I be proud of escaping a bill for $13.92? If leaders who mow down innocent people in the name of religious freedoms and empire building can be written up in the history books — why can’t my T.G.I.Friday’s incident of ‘95 (the one where I ordered twenty-two appetizers and escaped unscathed) be written up somewhere too? If stars can be given Academy Awards for their acting performances in movies, why can’t someone recognize the time I convinced a Denny’s manager that I had Tourette’s Syndrome, was having a seizure, and needed immediate medical attention (after ordering $102.33 in potato skins) ASAP?
King-ness. Over here.
Waitresses hate me. Managers despise me. Corporate giants responsible for global food consumption consider me to be their #1 nemesis. People wonder why I couldn’t be the king of paying bills promptly or why I couldn’t be the king of tipping really really well instead. People wonder why I couldn’t be the king of buying drinks for less fortunate alcoholics or why I couldn’t be the king of buying TV dinners and cooking them up for myself in the privacy of my own home. People wonder why I couldn’t just be happy being the king of my own domain instead of having to muck up the lives of hard working food service employees instead.
I can’t change who I am. And you can’t make me.
In the end, being the king of dining and ditching isn’t just for my own selfish reasons. Without realizing it, my kingness also inspires others to better themselves. Think about the waitresses who have their minds clouded with thoughts about their own personal lives instead of being aware of their surroundings? Think about the managers stuck in the back room tallying up employee’s hourly wages instead of schmoozing customers? Think about the rent-a-cop security guards stationed at the front of restaurants, more concerned with what’s playing on the CD-jukebox instead of what’s playing out in the parking lot of the joint.
I challenge them. I encourage them. I inspire them. It’s what a King is supposed to do.
Ok.
You can bow down now.
Truly, what I am most amazed by is that you can escape so deftly given the sheer quantity of food you’ve managed to pack down. You are a god among men, Pauly, a god among men.
Comment by James Cooper — January 16, 2007 @ 8:49 am
You inspire awe in every would-be cram & jammer - but how about a challenge? In addition to your copious consumption, order at least that much in a to-go bag and see if you can get out the door!
Comment by Susan — January 16, 2007 @ 10:57 am
Susan - Been there, done that. Challenge me, why don’t ya?
Comment by Pauly D — January 16, 2007 @ 2:33 pm
Some insight in as to why your Italian Restaurant friends are lacking in service, perhaps? Maybe they are on to your little scheme.
I also notice that these last few posts have been about the purchasing and consuming of food. Are you hungry? Can we make you something?
Comment by MIchelle — January 16, 2007 @ 3:06 pm
I hope you at least leave a tip?
Comment by groovebunny — January 17, 2007 @ 6:48 am
Ooooh I wonder how good you’d be in Vegas. That I’d love to see and all the dashing.
I can see it now..you’d be one of the only people on the .99 No Buffet Entry lists..lol.
You cheap cheap cheap man. However..you sooo deserve a little bow. LOL.
Comment by christie — January 17, 2007 @ 7:37 am
in high school we had a friend who dined and ditched. little did we know she was doing that since she’d often say she was taking the bill up to the counter to pay while she sent us all outside to wait. turns out, she was pocketing all our money! and she was rich while the rest of us actually had jobs while in school.
i still hate her for that.
Comment by ms. sizzle — January 17, 2007 @ 7:51 am
Um… might I suggest that your prowess at the eat-and-beat might be related to the fact that you, um, don’t exactly fit the profile. I mean, while you’re whistling your way out of the door, the eyes of the waitresses, the chef, the busboys, etc. are probably trained on that table of teenagers trying to split a plate of fries four ways, or that group of guys arguing over who’s been shot more times, Luducris or 50 Cent. Yes, it sounds stereotypical, but clean-cut, middle-aged white guys with a full set of teeth are rarely carefully watched in restaurants, even Denny’s. Make it a REAL test: leave that hair uncombed, let that facial hair grow out a bit and wear the jeans from the bottom of the hamper. Let’s take this experiment to the next level.
Oh, and you’re eating fried calamari… from DENNY’S??? They should PAY you to eat it and run.
Comment by Man on the Street — January 17, 2007 @ 8:03 pm
As a former waitress, I will confirm your statement above, “waitresses hate me.” Yes. That’s true. We do hate you.
Comment by Gina — January 18, 2007 @ 5:04 am
I’m more impressed by your skill in coming up with synonyms for Dine and Ditch.
I’m not worthy!
I am similiarly proud of the fact that I’m the queen of paying and dashing. In other words, I pay for food at the drive thru and take off before they can give me my food. I am also good at not letting cashiers give me my change.
You can bow to me now.
Comment by jacquie — January 18, 2007 @ 6:54 am