Some of you know I run a restaurant in Waikiki.
Sometimes, this brings forth interesting tales that make it to this blog.
This is one of them.
I cannot tell you how many times I've had to pick up the work phone to listen to some person who I think is a potential guest turn into crazy #1234 of the year that I get to encounter.
One particular lady has been dialing our number and insisting she was a Sargent for the police (of loony land), and that the FBI raided our restaurant the night before but she had been interviewed in a dark room with a spotlight and told them that all was right with the world...with our place. She was insanely and crazily believable...if you were not the owner of a sound mind in tact.
Well, tonight...I had the PLEASURE of meeting her. While talking with my host staff outside, she decided to grace us with her presence. She looked normal....until she opened her mouth.
This is exactly how our conversation went.
Crazy lady: Did the FBI show up last night? I'm Sargent Whocares and you probably know who I am...I'm very important...I know all the right people.
Me (brain clicking...thinking NO WAY it's Crazy FBI lady in the flesh): I didn't work last night.
Crazy lady: They told me I could get my free meal.
Me: Oh, well that was yesterday.
Crazy lady: Yesterday? You sure? Didn't they tell you about me?
Me: Maybe you missed the memo?
Crazy lady: But you know about the FBI right? They still inside?
Me: Nope. They left, top secret stuff, I guess.
Crazy lady sighs, nods her head at me like she knows what kind of top secret mission is going on without her and takes off with another crazy person who also looks really normal.
It's fun pretending to be crazy with real crazy people.
When I mean fun, I don't mean MEAN fun...just playing along with the fantasy that they believe.
No harm, no foul.
Just another night at the Ramblers place of work.
1 hour ago