Tag Archives: No Fish Go Fish

Sunday Supper Club #3: I like you guys. We're gonna be friends

Often, when restaurants are empty, diners get special treatment from the waitstaff, whether out of boredom, desperation for tips, or some other reason. When Big-L and my hungover asses pulled Billy’s Dad out of his post-work funk and into No Fish Go Fish, we got a waitress to ourselves. Nay, we got the restaurant to ourselves.

Billy’s Dad had had a rough day at work. Big-L and I were really hungover, and it was that odd dining hour between 5 and 6. we were hungry, punchy, and honestly, i was a few degrees south of lucidity. The waitress sauntered over while big-L and I groaned about out livers, having dispatched with a scraggily looking hippy. As she warily watched the hippie outside the restaurant, she says ‘I hope they don’t come in here.’

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