On Fridays we wear fedoras and go down to the Crow’s Nest. The ocean view reminds the Captain of Key West, or as he calls it, “Kayo Waso.” I order him the tempura prawns and a glass of chardonnay. As soon as we’re seated, I watch his pale blue eyes following the young waitresses in their short skirts and high heels.
“Nice atmosphere!” the Captain shouts at me across the table. Then his eyes dart back to the tan legs and red lips.
“Sure is, pal.”
“I’m hungry!” he says, as if it’s an amazing discovery.
“How convenient, I just ordered you the prawns.”
“I don’t have any fucking idea of what he just said. I’m all fucked up.” He makes eye contact with me. “I’m sorry, I was just talking to myself, not to you.”
“That’s okay, Captain. I ORDERED YOU THE P-R-A-W-N-S.”
“Didn’t you just fucking say that?”
“I did. I thought you didn’t hear me.”
I start to explain again, until I notice the Captain’s grin sneaking out from under his bone-white mustache.
“You heard me, didn’t you?”
His smile confirms my suspicion. “WOOOOOOOP WOOOOOP WOOOOOOO!” he hoots. “She has a nice leg, WOOOOP WOOOOP!”
I follow his eyes to a waitress at the table next to ours.
“Good news, pal: it’s got a twin.” I laugh.
“I’m a dirty old man. Well, just call me DOM then,” he says, taking a sip of his wine. “I’m hungry!”
“Good, I ordered you the prawns.”