You know the routine, Lumpy.

Snot. Drool. Snarl. Hawk. Spit. Curse. Scratch. Open One Bloodshot Eye, Halfway. Swear. Close. Repeat.

Any FNG with an idea of commenting on yer chowline etiquette rethunk things right quick when you gave him the routine.

I'm at Holloway, about a month short, sitting by myself at a square four, eating dinner. Scoop of "waldorf salad" on the tray, the apple/raisin/cole slaw stuff. Two cherries come over, stand there looking around, no seats anywhere. "Uhhh, is anyone gonna be uhh using these uhh seats...?"

I go into a world-class rendition of the rountine. "Naw. Siddown."

chomp chomp chomp

Get to the waldorf salad, take a look, there's a damn fly in the salad, looks like a raisin. I cannot believe my luck. I pick him up in a forkful of salad. Hold it out to the two FNGs. Show them the carcass.

"Looka here. Effing fly. I my effing salad. Sumbitch looks like an effing raisin. Bastid. Look."

Two of 'em stop eating, look the fork and the fly. Eyes get big. Look back and forth at each other, back at their trays. Wince. Gulp. Back at the fork.

I make sure they're still looking, then eat the forkful of salad fly and all, stick it down my neck like there's nothing unusual about it at all, and keep eating.

Those two cherries sat there for another minute or two pushing stuff around on their trays, getting greener by the second, finally both stood up at the same time and bolted for the door like they were getting mortared.

Life is full of small rewards.