Curse of The Olive Garden & A Blog

Double Karma.

This story begins a few weeks ago. The hunt for free restaurant buzzers was on. In cooperation with an anonymous friend (Daniel), we set out on a busy (Friday?) night to see how many places in line we could hold with the prize being one of those buzzers. Keep in mind, this was to pass the time until we were seated at a real restaurant. In the end, we ended up with just one, courtesy of the Olive Garden. While it was cool at first, it never stopped beeping and was subsequently smashed. (Bonus Video!: Witness others (not me) perform this feat.) Karma the first.

Skip ahead to a few days ago. An hilarious countdown list for Black Friday was published by yours truly, explaining the joys of working on the busiest shopping day of the year. On the list: stolen cars, stolen presents, and stolen cars with bonus presents inside. I wrote (and then left out) a fourth car related joyful moment: minor fender benders in the parking lot and the road rage that follows. Karma the second.

Then came this Sunday. The family calls requesting my presence for a late Sunday dinner. I clock out of work, fly down the 91, and arrive safely at the restaurant of choice: The Olive Garden. I grab a buzzer, walk back to my car, and proceed to wait for the rest of my party. The wait time at this Olive Garden inside a shopping center (is there any Olive Garden not part of a shopping center or mall?) is about 45 minutes. Perfect timing for a power nap.

Sleeping, I feel a vibration, except it's the one from my phone and not the one alerting me that it's time for complimentary bread sticks. My sister was just involved in a hit-and-run by a red pickup truck about 50 feet away from a parking space at The Olive Garden. No injuries, just your neighborhood asshole hitting your car, getting out to make sure his car is okay, then getting back in his car and driving off. Meanwhile, the real buzzer goes off, but it's too late for pasta time. Everyone's pissed and I'm not gonna let Jessica get a 5% tip because nobody's in the mood for smiles. So, with Olive Garden buzzer going crazy in the back seat (see above), I drive over to the accident to eye the damage, then drive home.

Please, don't steal restaurant buzzer things and don't joke about fender benders.