“While some people were relaxing in preparation for Labor Day, the rest were apparently using the lead-up as an excuse to party. At about midnight, the drunks began to roll into my restaurant—and, of course, chaos ensued. Sure, there were plenty of memorable moments that night—a guy who made out with his sister to prove his breath didn’t smell, a tip of some buy-one-get-one-free coupons and Chuck E. Cheese tickets—but the best was the couple who decided to rendezvous in our bathroom. Loudly. She looked like a stripper (black satin hot pants and black stilettos). He was Armenian (maybe Persian?) and had a perpetually popped collar. At some point, they squeezed into our single-serving men’s bathroom (approximately 5 feet by 3 feet) and got down to it—so much so that you could hear them all through my half of the restaurant. My manager and I banged on the door until the noises stopped and color returned to the faces of everyone sitting within earshot. The culprits stumbled out unapologetically (as she readjusted her hot pants) and took their seats at one of my new tables. It was weird at first (I wondered if they washed their hands), but they turned out to be good sports. When someone at their table mentioned ‘role playing’ (not in a sexual reference, I’m sure), I shot back: ‘Oh, is that what you guys were doing in the bathroom?’ Luckily, they laughed it off and left a nice tip to boot.”

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