Sorry, Skyline

This past Friday my mom, dad, sister, brother-in-law, niece and kids ended up at Skyline Chili for dinner (we were at Mio’s but a severe storm knocked their power out and pretty much everyone in Ft. Thomas’s power out, leaving me unable to cook for everyone). We were all a bit frazzled, hot and wet. But we love Skyline. Even I, still, love Skyline, after having waited tables at various Skyline locations during my high school and college years. My kids love Skyline, seeing as their meals there are basically plain spaghetti, oyster crackers and large quantities of cheese.

We were all packed into a large corner booth when I noticed James standing up, facing the back of the booth, digging through the diaper bag that I had sat on top of the booth, against the wall. He pulled out my keys and tried to drop them between the wall and the booth. I caught them. Then, I noticed my cell phone was gone.

I looked at the crack between the booth and the wall.

And sighed.

Katy called my phone.

The space between the booth and the wall started to ring.

It took five men, including my dad and brother-in-law, to move that corner booth, which is a lot heavier than it looks and is attached to other parts of  other surrounding booths in the restaurant. Basically, all the cooks had to stop cooking to help me retrieve my phone.

We always tip a little extra at Skyline, largely because the nature of the food (crackers and cheese) lends itself to a messy table and floor. This particular night, however, we had to tip a little more.

“Having a two-year-old is like having a blender that you don’t have the top for.” —Jerry Seinfeld