It was the middle of lunchtime rush and the place was packed. The moment we walked in the door Charlie started actin' a fool. Naturally the line was 30 people deep and 29 of the 30 turned around to stare at us (the other person was on the phone and merely gave us an annoyed glance). As the line progressed Charlie's behavior descended from loud yelling to uncontrolled wailing.
It seemed like an eternity as the line inched forward like a herd of turtles marching through peanut butter. FINALLY we ordered and were seated. I shamefully had to ask the seating hostess for not one, but TWO highchairs, which she then had to drag across the entire restaurant.
Finally, the five of us were wedged happily into a corner table. That's when I noticed we were seated next to my former youth pastor and his wife and daughter! They were their celebrating their daughter's 17th birthday. We took a moment to catch up (it's been a looooong time since I was in youth group) and then sat back down to eat. Charlie quietly munched on a piece of chicken while I fed Ella a bite of baby food. And for about 47 seconds it seemed like all was right with the world.
"The Incident" happened just as I took my first bite of sweet and sour chicken. What I can only describe as a TIDAL WAVE of vomit came blowing out of Ella's mouth. A sea of partially digested milk and baby food rolled down her chest, over the edge of her high chair, down her legs, and splattered onto the floor below. I have literally never seen a baby vomit so much liquid. Linda Blair would have been proud.
As soon as the last gallon of vomit rolled out Ella began shrieking uncontrollably as (once again) everyone turned to stare at us...only this time our screamfest was accompanied by the rapidly spreading and unmistakable smell of puke. Other diners were like:
Mom looked at me horrified and said, "THE SMELL!"
If you've ever eaten at a Pei Wei, you know that the tables are packed in extremely tightly. So our puke smell is your puke smell.
I snatched Ella (still screaming) out of her highchair as I took the fork away from Charlie so he wouldn't accidentally give himself a tonsillectomy while no one was looking. I dragged the puke covered princess to the bathroom as mom ran to find the seating hostess and begged her for towels, cleaner, bleach, Lysol spray... a new identity and a ticket to a foreign country where no one would recognize her as the inappropriate granny who dragged an infant to Pei Wei, etc.
Finally, mom met me in the bathroom to calm the stinky (and now hungry again) Ella. Mom volunteered to take Ella straight to the car and departed out the side door at an impressibly swift pace. I walked back to the table trying to look apologetic while also avoiding eye contact.
I slinked into my seat expecting dad and Charlie to be mortified and instead they were just chillin', eating their lunches like Pukefest 2015 had not just occurred at our table. Dad started talking politics while Charlie snatched food from mom's (now abandoned) plate.
Since the "Pee Wee Incident," we now have a list of questions we answer before deciding to eat at any restaurant with the babies:
1. Are the highchairs already sticky?
2. Is there a play place?
3. Does the hygiene of the person taking your order look questionable?
4. Will someone be asking "Do you want fries with that?"
5. Do you need to wipe down the table both before and after you eat?
If the answer to any of these questions is "No" we shouldn't be eating there. We are Burger King people. We are NOT Pei Wei people.
