I was thrust into darkness.
O dark dark dark. They all go into dark, the vacant interstellar space, the vacant into the vacant.
The hostess led me to a table - probably in an inky corner and helped me to sit down. I detected strong odors of mutton, falukorv and Chanel #5, all mingled together like someone sneezed in my mouth. For being in perpetual blackness, the place hummed with voices and farting which added to the cornucopia of smells. God, what a dining experience! It was taking all of my effort to just sit there like a dunce, waiting for the next shoe to drop. Which I hoped would be soon.
"How about a menu?" I asked before realizing how stupid that question was.
"Oh there isn't a menu, Mr. Slade. I can tell you what we have....." I cut her off in mid-sentence.
"Don't bother," I said as the sounds of an argument started to drift my way from the next table, "Just bring me a dirty fork from a previous customer, I'll smell it and order from there."
The argument was getting louder and I could sense the hostess wasn't paying too much attention to me. One of the participants in the scuffle shouted, "Min igelkot e inte dum."
"Wait," I semi-shouted above the growing rukus, "make that a Bruichladdich." The neighbors were starting to get on my nerves. The hostess slurred out a half-hearted "Yes sir" and I could tell she had drifted off as I couldn't smell the stench of feet anymore.
The debate next to me turned into a boxing match. I could hear the sliding of chairs quickly moving away from a table and then the mingled sounds of exertion mixed with gasps and screams. One of the dolts must have slipped and his leg whacked my chair, knocking me forward onto my table. Alright, that was enough! I pulled the cloth shade off my head. But everything was still the same! It was still dark, darker than the Million Man March. Ali and Foreman were still trading blows (how they could see each other was beyond me!) and that made me angrier. Suddenly I shouted, "I bet $10 on the one with the knife!" Immediately I could hear chairs and tables being flung over and feet running for the exit. I could tell a few ran full on into the walls. As the noise of crying babies and hurt feelings slowly subsided, a grubby voice whispered from out of the gloom.
"Impressive, Mr. Slade."