After a tough week, everyone in the family agreed that we needed a break from cooking, cleaning, and the usual chaos of daily life. We chose to go to Applebee’s, a laid-back place we knew where we could relax, have a good meal, and spend time together. We just went out to unwind; it wasn’t anything extraordinary.
But when we got to Applebee’s, it was evident that other people had the same intention. A lot of folks were there. There were cars all over the place. People were flying around like vultures, looking for a spot to land. I let out a breath, gripped the steering wheel more tightly, and slowly began to maneuver between the rows.
After five minutes of snooping around and becoming angry, I finally saw a man leave the restaurant and walk to his car. His look made it seem like he had done eating for the night. I carefully followed him as he opened his car, got in, and took longer than I imagined he would to back out. I didn’t care. I waited. I had my turn signal on, which made it clear that I was waiting for him to move.
It happened right when he was going to leave the place where I had been waiting.
A silver car with loud music and open windows rushed around the corner and into the space before I could even move. It was quick, planned, and not very nice. There were four young women in the car, perhaps in their early twenties, and they were laughing like they had just pulled off the largest robbery ever.
I was shocked for a moment. At first, I didn’t believe it. Then I got mad, and ultimately I got mad slowly. I opened my window and calmly talked to the driver, but I was forceful.
“I’ve been waiting for that spot,” I told her.
She looked me in the eye, didn’t blink, and murmured, “Too bad,” with a smug smirk. It didn’t say your name on it.
She then turned back to her friends and laughed, clearly happy with herself.
To be honest, I wanted to jump straight in. But my family was in the car. I wasn’t going to let my kids act that way. I stayed calm, though. I shook my head, took a breath, and went back to looking for a new place. I finally found one, well in the back, a long way from the entrance, but it was a spot, and that’s all I needed.
We went inside, sat down, and ordered some meal. The mood at the table started to get better as we ate appetizers and talked about our week. I made sure to get over what happened in the parking lot. It was just a place, after all. That’s what I thought.
I spotted them again. The same girls who had taken my place were now sitting at the bar. They were loud, laughing too much, and taking shots like it was spring vacation. There was something blue, tequila, and vodka. It was a free-for-all. It was clear that they weren’t pacing themselves. I witnessed them drink one drink after another, and they didn’t seem to be slowing down.
That’s when I realized I didn’t need revenge; I needed an opening. A little bit of poetic justice, if you please.
I asked our waiter to come over when we were done eating. He was a friendly person, perhaps in his mid-twenties, and had a great sense of humor. I handed him a $20 bill and said softly, “Please do me a favor.” Wait fifteen minutes after we leave before going up to the girls in the bar. “Someone just called the restaurant and said their car got scratched in the parking lot,” said.
He looked at me for a second and then smiled like he knew. “Yes, you got it,” he said.
Just to be clear, I didn’t touch their automobile. I would never hurt someone’s property, no matter how disrespectful they were. But the thought of women going crazy, dashing outside in their heels and yelling about scratches that weren’t there, made me feel good.
We left the restaurant a little while later, got in the car, and headed home. I couldn’t stop thinking about how it had turned out for the rest of the night. The next day, I couldn’t quit thinking about it. But I don’t want to push it. I was thinking of stopping by next week to ask.
Sure enough, about a week later, I went back to Applebee’s, but this time it was just for a drink. As soon as I walked in, the same waiter saw me. He almost raced over to my table, giggling the whole time.
With a smirk, he said, “You won’t believe what happened after you left.”
He added that five minutes after we left, he walked over to the women and casually told them that someone had just called the restaurant to indicate that their car had been keyed. He seemed cool, but it looks like the effect was instant chaos. They got up from their bar chairs, dumped their drinks, and raced outside in a panic. Screaming. Cursing. They touched every part of the car, looking for damage that wasn’t there.
Then, in a hurry, they called the police to report the “damage.”
The cops came soon away, checked over the car, and, of course, found no damage. But as they were doing this, they spotted something else. The females were really inebriated. They were slurring their words, falling down, and being loud, all of it. While they were doing other things, the officers decided to keep an eye on them and drove around the parking lot a few times.
And guess what? Not long after that, the females came back outside, laughing and dancing, and got in the car. As soon as the engine began, the squad car lit up. Flashing lights. Sounds of a siren. Got caught.
People were arrested for driving under the influence. It wasn’t only about people complaining about noise or drinking underage anymore. They were a serious threat on the road, and the police weren’t going to let that go.
When the waiter finished delivering the story, I couldn’t help but laugh. It was too good to be real, like something from a movie. The situation was marked by a cocky attitude, recklessness, and quick karma. What is the best? There were no injuries. But a few irresponsible people were taken off the road before anything horrible could happen.
I handed the waiter $20 more. I told them, “This is the best $40 I’ve ever spent.” And I really meant it.