The hotel we stayed at does a free breakfast that is intended to be lavish, at least by Nebraska standards. I'm old enough to be mildly surprised by people straggling down to dine in pajama pants or sweats with sayings across the bum, but not so old as to be shocked. Still, I have to admit a bit of horror when I watched the children at the next table sticking the salt and pepper shakers in their mouths, and the parents leaving them on the table for the next poor unsuspecting family. We weren't dining, thankfully-just getting our morning coffee and tea, but had we been, I might well have lost my appetite.
The dining area is surrounded by the hallways of the upper floors, and you can look down at each floor to the main level. We sat there in shocked silence as a woman screamed (loudly) at her children five floors up to, "Put on shoes before you come down to breakfast! You can wear flip-flops, but you can't eat barefoot, it isn't polite!"
I had to kick Danny pretty hard beneath the table to keep him from laughing aloud (She was only an arm's length from us). I guess the kids weren't getting her point, so she moved off to the edge of the room to shout at them directly overhead.
It reminded me of my favourite East Boston moment. Walking home from the train, I passed a church where outside a mother was screaming obscenities at her child for, "Swearing in front of the goddamned church."