Florida. 2015.

When my oldest was almost 4 and my second child was still a baby in a car seat, the wife and I decided to treat ourselves and take the family out to red lobster.

  I think it had been years since I’ve eaten there and I was looking forward to it. This was back before Covid and before everything tripled in price. Red lobster was one of the few “fancy” places left in our area to eat.

The place was very full and it took us almost a half an hour to get the table. It was a tiny booth with a small bench to rest the car seat with baby L—, and G—‘s high chair was at the end of the table. My son got his kids menu coloring page and he insisted on the side of broccoli with his chicken tenders. The way we were seated, my wife and I were facing each other, and G— sort of perpendicular, looking down the table between us. This detail is important. 

       During this time in our lives, the three year-old was feeling adventurous and trying new foods, which was nice. Most children are loathe to try anything new, let alone a vegetable. I was quite surprised when he tried the broccoli, and actually liked it. I had this lobster bake where the lobster tail was cooked in this little pot with a bunch of potatoes and onions. When it hit the table I was practically salivating. 

        Right before I was going to take my first bite, G— decided to take as much broccoli as he could and shove it in his mouth. My immediate concern was him choking, but instead he made that specific noise that means a vomit is coming. 

There are different types of vomit you get to learn about as a parent. One type is the kind that makes you think “how can such a small body hold and expel 12 gallons of puke?” The first blast just went right across the table and happened before I could even get out of my seat. 

       Another thing you discover as a parent is that there is no way to run with an actively vomiting child without wearing half of it. This method is also good for quickly clearing a path to the bathroom. That first gag seemed to trigger something in him where he was just puking and puking. 

        Eventually there was nothing left after holding him over the toilet like I was about to give a goldfish a burial at sea. I did my best to clean up the poor kid and myself while looking for a window to climb out of. 

        I took a breath and started my walk of shame back to the table. There were so many sympathetic looks I lost count. We had been moved, along with our food, to the next table over. Underneath our old table was the restaurant manager and the server he probably hated the most, scrubbing the carpet with rags and paper towels. 

        There was a moment when I thought about asking the manager to reheat my food. When I caught his eyes he gave me a look that said “I hope you burst into flames and leave my restaurant forever”. Cold food it is, then. 

        Everyone was settled and back to their meals so I finally scooped as much food as my fork would hold and took a giant bite. It took about 3 seconds to realize I had a mouthful of my son’s vomit. My wife almost telepathically understood what had happened and gave me the Oh no look. I had barely made it out of my chair before she was cackling at me. 

        Thankfully in my panic I was able to follow the yet to be cleaned vomit trail back to the bathroom. I just barely made it to the bathroom door before I started puking all over the floor, leaving another mess to clean. Didn’t realize that I could vomit that much either. Once I was able to orient myself back to the table, we figured it was time to leave. Adjusted for inflation this was a $90 meal we didn’t get to eat. 

       From then on I was afraid to even drive by the Red Lobster, thinking the manager would be waiting to throw rotten fruit at my family. That was the last time we have ever eaten there, and we moved shortly after, mostly out of shame, probably.