Word: waiter
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Talk about embarrassing moments. There was Treasury Secretary Michael Blumenthal in San Francisco's tony Beethoven's restaurant with a hefty dinner bill, an expired Visa card and a waiter demanding extra identification for an out-of-state bank check. Blumenthal solved his predicament uniquely: producing a dollar bill, he invited the waiter to match the check signature against the neat W M Blumenthal inscribed on the greenback's lower right-hand corner...
...meal supposedly came with bread and butter, except that the waiter forgot the butter with one of the rolls, and the melted butter accompanying the other was cleverly packaged in a piece of golden tinfoil, making it a greasy chore to unwrap. Don't however, fill up on dry bread; you'll want to save at least a little room for dessert, just so you can order things out of the spinning Frididaire...
...Filipino (17%), followed by Chinese and Korean. Thus while Hawaiian, a melodious language that the missionaries alphabetized into a mere twelve characters, is still spoken and sung on the island, many natives converse in pidgin English, the world's most colorful lingua franca. A dark-hued hotel waiter, cussed out by an irate Texan who has received the soup in his lap, retorts: "Eh, now, no take out on me, you stupid buggah! Udderwise bimeby I gone broke your head in small tiny pieces...
...which eleven Israeli athletes were killed, and a wide assortment of other terrorist attacks and murders. Five times the Israeli intelligence organization, Mossad, had tried to kill him; the most memorable failure was a 1973 operation in Lillehammer, Norway, that resulted in the death of an innocent Moroccan waiter who the Israeli hit team thought was the "Red Prince," their code name for Abu Hassan. The Israelis wanted him dead perhaps more than anyone else; he had staged too many spectacular raids, had killed their agents and made them look like bunglers. Last week they finally...
Restaurants and shops seemed unusually empty and unusually loud. We were the only customers in Hong Wah, a seven-table restaurant on Mott Street, Chinatown's main thoroughfare. Outside there were more policemen than civilians; inside, the proprietor, waiters and friends were talking excitedly, presumably about events in the streets, though when questioned our waiter seemed non-committal as to what might occur that afternoon...