Soon, all of us - Tommy, Lydia, the new dishwasher and I - were peereing through the window, where in full view of his assembled crew, Bobby was noisily rearending the bride. She was bent obligingly over a 55-gallon drum, her gown hiked up over her hips. Bobby's apron was up, resting over her back as he pumped away furiosly, the young woman's eyes rolled up into her head, mouth whispering, 'Yess, yess... good... good'
While her new groom and family chawed happily on their flounder fillets and deep-fried scallops just a few yards away in the Dreadnaught dining room, here was the blushing bride, getting an impromptu send-off from a total stranger.
And I knew then, dear reader, for the first time: I wanted to be a chef.