Set up: I was in my early 20's, living in London, gettting around on these
and working at Chicago Rib Shack. (The original restaurant closed in 1999. This link is a review about the new "improved" version.)
I served exceptionally mediocre BBQ to well-heeled Londoners and obnoxious American tourists. John McEnroe once came in for dinner after winning Wimbledon. Let me just ask; if you were John McEnroe, and had just won Wimbledon, why in the #%&*^! would you go have dinner at the Chicago Rib Shack? One of the busboys (I so wish I could remember his name, he was a dead ringer for Mathew Broderick. Adorable.) Anywho, cute busboy collected autographs but was too shy to ask McEnroe. I, of course, was not. True to his reputation, the master of the tennis court was surly and foul. (I also waited on Martin Sheen at a different restaurant in London...but, even I know that I am now getting so far off track, I may never get back.)
One of the other servers at CRS was Maddy. We were fast friends and partners in crime. Maddy had a younger brother whose name will remain unspoken. He was a few years younger (!) than me. He had brown eyes, dark curly hair and well, you know, that accent. I was all over him like a cheap suit. We used to go for long drives (on the wrong side of the road) in places that looked like this.
And I remember one rainy afternoon, snogging with him in a pub at the end of this pier in Brighton. He was yummy.
I'm still in touch with his sister. When she emailed me photos of his wedding a few years ago, my feelings were a little hurt. That is the definition of insanity.
