Quote:
Originally Posted by Magnum PEI
a couple times I've seen people quite obviously playing 'pocket pool' on the c-train. One time the guy was staring at the girl across from him (on the old style cars with facing benches) until my friend told him to stop.
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A little over 20 years ago, I waitressed in a truck stop, north of Peace River (High Level - people rarely seem to know where it is though). I soon found out the meaning of 'rig pig' - man, they were awful sometimes. But, they were not nearly as bad as this one old booger who used to show up from deep in the back of nowhere somewhere up there. He was disgusting. We always flipped a coin to see who had to serve him, regardless of what section he sat in. There was always furtive movement under the table. Always. And, he leered at you when you approached. And, he reeked to high frigging heaven. He was seriously the most disgusting customer we ever had. 'Rig pigs' were a dream after Goat Man had been in.
He was nicknamed Goat Man because it was alleged some of his best friends were goats, at some point, if you catch my drift. I don't know if that was true but it surely didn't do him any favors.
And then one day, he came in and we flipped the coin as we always did and my Anne lost that coin toss. This was the one time he decided that furtive was too low key and he was full on going at it, in plain sight, once you got close enough to the booth to see. He'd chosen a back booth this time, which was unusual. He usually sat nearest the entrance doors. Yeah. The back booth was so he could have at, without
everyone seeing. Just those lucky enough to get close enough to the table could see. Which was Anne.
Anne, who promptly poured the jug of water she was carrying, right in his crotch. He was lucky it wasn't the pot of coffee she was carrying in her other hand. Cops were called, he was hauled off and we never saw him in the restaurant again. Thank friggin' Maude for that.