Green Beans Salad

MMMMMMMM. THATS WHAT I HAD FOR DINNER. I WANTED CREAMED CORN, BUT DIDN'T HAVE ANY. SO I MADE GREEN BEANS SAAAALLLLAAAAD. YUMMY!

For lunch, I had mexican food. tex-mex, really. The 3 Enchiladas lunch special, Santana playing in the background, got the $1.00 soup but never received it. The waiter, who was either surly or an antisocial moron, brought the check at long last and then asked me if we were Emory students. "Yes," I replied.
Waiter: "that explains a lot."
I snapped back: "What does that mean?"
Waiter: "Oh, nothing"

He disappears into his kitchen-lair, and I explain to my friends what just happened. All 6 of us were indignant to say the least. We started to figure out who owed what. I threw down ten bucks in the interest of speeding up the process. The waiter came back, looking either impatient or like a dull robot fuck who doesn't know how to correlate emotion and expression. I think it was the latter but you really can't tell sometimes.

"Do you need a pen to figure this out and write out the individual prices?"

At this point, I am furious. This food was nothing special, and despite having 10 people in the restaurant including us, this fucking joke of a waiter was trying to patronize us. Either that, or he was a martian weirdo from outer space, and doesn't know how to interact with humans.

"No, we go to Emory, bro" was my retort. My friends laughed. The waiter stumbled over his next sentence

"Uhhh, I just meant that a lot of times kids that go to Emory like to split up the checks because like, they might never see each other again."

He went on, saying something so insignificant that I already don't remember it. What the fuck? Is this guy kidding? "What just went down?" asked my friend Neil, returning from the bathroom. "That guy's tip," I replied. Although in the end, we left him 14%. After all, he might have been sincere in excusing his comment. Or, he might have been a misanthropic, desolate, alienated aberration, a clown. Who am I to say?