The Restaurant Disaster of 2014

Disclaimer: I wrote this when I was a lil’ fifteen year old and posted it on my old blog, but I decided to transfer it over here, so I changed some of the wording with this lol and decided to add my thoughts as an 18 year old in italics

Hey there, reader.

Believe me. We are starting off tame with this one.

Picture this. A lovely, quaint Italian restaurant with a tranquil air. Then I walk in.

Maybe I should start at the beginning.

My parents and I were taking a long weekend down South, in a place I can’t quite recall, but the hotel was called The Penny Farthing. It was a pretty nice place.

(I can’t really remember it now but I’m sure it was a lovely place)

It was a little town, where we were staying, small but with a sort of endearing charm about it. The majority of the buildings were restaurants and ice cream shops (omnomnom) and on the second night we were there, we went to a beautiful Italian restaurant.

I walked in behind my parents.

As the waitress led us to a table, I spotted a boy around my age looking at me with interest. Bearing in mind I was fifteen and 6" at the time (I’m now 18 and still 6"), it garners all sorts of unwanted attention.

He was quite good looking, with blonde floppy hair and thick black glasses (I was so basic omg) I looked back and that is when I spotted it. The Hobbit was lying gently on the table next to his plate and my only thought was “You, good sir, are mine.”

(An excellent book, 10/10 choice)

He smiled at me, reader, and it was a nice smile, a quirky smile, with small dimples. In my haste to smile back, I did not notice the chair right in front of me. I was concentrating that hard, and do you know what I did, reader? I think you might have guessed already.

(This makes me want to die to this day)

I tripped. Not just on the leg of the chair, no, but on the whole chair. My body went flying over the seat and I landed sprawled on the floor.

There was silence.

Pure, stunned silence.

Instead of just brushing it off by standing up and laughing, I decided to pretend I was picking something up off of the floor.

Jumping up and shouting “I found it!” Pretending to hold the back of an earring when I don’t even have pierced ears.

(Not one of my better ideas, I will admit.)

The whole restaurant burst into raucous conversation at once, immediately ignoring my mishap, which I was rather thankful for.

Except for the boy. He was staring at me and chuckling, which made the situation even worse.

(Reader, never put me under pressure. Weird stuff happens.)

I’m quite sure I was bright red throughout all of my meal (pizza and an amazing piece of chocolate cake for dessert) and therefore hurried back to the hotel afterwards with the intent to bury my head in a pillow and cry crocodile tears.

But no reader, it does not end there.

(Aka Part II of Things I Have Done That Make Me Want To Die)

The next morning, I was eating my breakfast right by the window, when the very same boy from the previous incident walked past, looked in the window and smiled that charming smile.

What did I do, you ask?

Stared at him with a spoonful of strawberry yoghurt.

In my mouth.

Yes.

Yes I did.

I should go.

I’m inept at life in general.

(I still am, nothing has changed)

Your least favourite person

Lucy

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