Chris and I went to Atlanta last weekend. I had a couple of Vault parties in The Big City, and he tagged along to make it a date weekend.

Friday night, we went out to eat at Taverna Plaka with Chris’ former roommate and Roommate’s Girlfriend.


If you’ve been hanging around here for a while, the name “Taverna Plaka” should conjure up images of Greek belly dancers, us dancing with belly dancers, and maybe even Chris and his blinky-tied uncle dancing on a table with belly dancers.

But despite our many past adventures, we somehow forgot how loud it could get, and went with the intention of catching up with an old friend and getting to know his girlfriend.

Hard to do when you can’t hear each other yell an inch away from your face.

We’d only met Roommate’s Girlfriend (R.G.) once before (and it was very briefly), so we were on our best behavior. We were polite, we were complimentary of Roommate, and we tried to actually hear every word R.G. said, despite the Greek Dance Music vibrating off of the ceiling and napkins being thrown all over us.

When our drinks arrived at the table, Roommate mentioned that it was a good thing that R.G. ordered water, because she was the most notorious drink-spiller in the entire world.

Chris and I smiled knowingly at each other.

I piped up, as Chris simultaneously tried to shush me.

“Oh NO! I hope you don’t spill a drink tonight!! Spilled drinks are Chris’ ONE pet peeve in the entire world!!”

Chris got embarrassed.

“Now, now, don’t tell her that. She’ll think I’m a terrible person!!”

But you see, it’s true. It doesn’t matter if a drink spill occurs three rooms away from him and was perpetrated by an innocent one year old or by his thirty year old wife, he WILL notice and he WILL huff and puff and get all bent out of shape.

I, too, was once a drink spiller. But because of his extreme issue with this particular character flaw, I have learned to NEVER spill.

The kids, however, are still learning. Which causes us to regularly have conversations about our differing philosophies regarding reactions to accidents.

I explained all of this to her.

Chris, albeit ashamed, couldn’t deny the truth. We all have our weaknesses, after all.

R.G. was amused, and a little glad she’d picked the right man for her situation.

She and Roommate told us the story of how she spilled an entire gigantic-Mexican-Restaurant-cup in his lap on their first date, and then toward the end of the very same meal, spilled an entire gigantic-Mexican-Restaurant-cup into her own plate. And how this trend had been a constant in their relationship henceforth.

Chris was amused, and a little glad he’d picked the right woman for his situation.

The music kicked up and our conversation died down.

And then, as we sat waiting for the opportunity to continue our conversation, it happened.

For the first time in thirteen years.

There aren’t enough superlatives in the English language to adequately describe it, but it was magical.

Chris reached for his Diet Coke, and his aim was a little off.

His FULL Diet Coke.

He knocked it with his hand, and every last drop ran for gleeful freedom in my direction.

My mouth hung open in shock as the world as I knew it spun off it’s axis.

The freed drink seeped from my bra to the tips of my socks, and quite literally puddled in my lap. An impressive number of especially aggressive drops made it all the way to the other side of my chair and showered my purse, with a particular concentration on my iPhone.

I quickly watched Chris’ face, waiting for him to implode and disappear off the face of the earth.

He was sitting there, gasping for breath, having a complete internal existential crisis as he watched the laws of physics as he understood them completely betray him.

“But…I barely touched it!! I didn’t even feel it!! How did that happen?!?!?!”

I began to laugh. Hysterically. Evilly. Gloatingly.

I gasped between waves of laughter.

“You can…never…ever…ever…EVER…get mad…at…another spilled drink….ever again!!”

He somehow managed to come back to earth and unwrapped all of our silverware in attempts to use the 0% absorbent pieces of useless cloth to soak up his mess.

I handed him my iPhone.

“You fix that. I’ll work on the rest.”

I blotted and laughed. I picked up my purse, watched Coke pour out of it, and laughed. I felt down to the bottom of my now-carbonated boots and laughed.

Roommate and R.G. looked on, confused.

“So…I take it this has never happened before?”

My eyes shone with the victory that can only be found in a long-fought battle. “I have been waiting for this moment for THIRTEEN YEARS. And it is glorious.”


Roommate and R.G. now both think that we’re a little batty, especially since I continued to break out in spontaneous whooping laughter for the remainder of the evening.

Chris is beginning his process of acceptance of the world as it now is, which is crushing to his soul.

And I, still slightly damp and a bit sticky, am shouting “TAVERNA!” at the top of my lungs the minute anyone spills anything. FOR THE REST OF HIS LIFE.

41 thoughts on “A Culmination of Sweet, Sweet Justice.

  1. First, I want to meet the one year old with the thiry year old wife, I would find that quite interesting. Second, I remeber the worst family birthday dinner we ever had. Chris was 7 or 8, we were at John’s downtown, Chris went to pour ketchup and assuming the top was on shook it up. Oops, the top was not on and he strew ketchup a little, I emphacize a little. Mike went balistic, it was not a big deal but it was to Mike for some reason. It was horrible what a big deal he made out of this tiny spill. All this to say, Did Chris get this phobia from his father?

  2. Oooh.. that’s excellent. I can just picture you sitting with him on the porch, when you’re 80 and seeing some kid across the street spill a drink. “TAVERNA!”

  3. I am so very sad. So.Very.Sad. That the drink spilled on your iPhone and thus there is no picture of Chris in his moment of revelation!!! I bet there would have been a glow above his head (as in a certain, odd-shaped light bulb glow)!!

  4. Ahahahahahahaha!!!! Awesome. That is fantastic. I, too, used to hate spilled drinks – it just seemed like complete carelessness to me. One very memorable day I (was very sleep deprived and getting over a cold, in my defense) completely lost it and yelled at my 3 year old son for spilling his milk all over the table (wall, floor, mail, his sister, etc) and sent him to his room in tears for a time out. As I headed back into the kitchen from cleaning up his mess, I knocked over my – full – 32oz nalgene water bottle. Then I knocked over a cup of powdered sugar on the counter. Then I bumped the soap dispenser, which hit something on the drying rack, knocking over the silverware holder in said drying rack, falling into the sink full of soapy water with all the clean and dry silverware behind it. And on. And on. This went on for the entire day and much of the next. By the end of the next day I was practically yelling, “OK God! I get it! Everyone spills!!! I will never – EVER – lose my temper when my kids spill! I understand! MAKE IT STOP!!!!!!!!!!!” :D

  5. I cherish the moments that my “perfect” Hot Hubby makes a mistake. I’m always the one fumbling things up so when he does it makes me feel a little more sane. Enjoy the victory!

  6. Oh, the thought of being covered in Coke is actually painful for me to think about…wet clothes and sticky. AAAAAH! It’s too much!

  7. LOL, that is hilarious!!! And boy oh boy I am glad Chris doesn’t live with my kids because K spills something every. single. day. I try to be patient and I know she is not doing it on purpose but seriously?? Every single day? S would too if we would give her a cup without a lid…actually she spilled K’s drink this morning after climbing up on one of the bar stools (where she’s not supposed to be). Oh the messes they make. I will have to remember this the next time they spill and I will be able to laugh it off, thinking of you, soaked with coke and laughing your head off. :)

  8. THAT made my day!! I wish I could have been a fly on the wall for this!

    My husband (and child) can manage to spill cups with the lids on… ALL THE TIME! In less than a minute, might I add! I can’t imagine attempting life in a No Spill Zone!

    I hope your boots and purse survived the cold, wet, sticky mess! :D

    1. Also, if you read my blog yesterday… you will notice that I TOO have become quite the dropper of any- and everything I touch. Thus, I am spilling things everywhere! :)

    2. I think they did – although my poor purse is ready to be replaced – just the week before, there was a massive sippy cup milk leak in it. Thinking I need to go purse shopping – on the husband’s dime! :)

  9. I waited tables at the faculty club when I was in college. One day, as I was pouring tea for a civil engineering professor (I had made it my business to find out who he was because he was a hottie), I spilled the entire pitcher into his lap.

    My response?

    “It’s a good thing I’m an English major.”

  10. Such a great story, and the re-telling of it was perfectly executed!! I even shared it at dinner the other night when *an unnamed child* spilled a drink. My husband saw the end coming and started groaning in male-sympathy for Chris. Give our thanks to Chris – it totally made our night! =)

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