Scene From a Sports Bar (A Restoration of Faith in Human Nature)

My husband and I are always on the lookout for that perfect restaurant — a place where we can indulge our adult relaxation desires (edgy things like eating and drinking in peace), while not forcing our children to do the impossible: sit still in a seat while awake. Back in Brooklyn, we’d occasionally time things perfectly so that both kids were asleep in the double stroller just in time for us to sashay over to the local Mexican restaurant for lunch. We’d snag a seat outside, where we could park the stroller beside us as we sipped margaritas, ate heavenly guacamole and flirted with each other.

This past Saturday, we’d had a long day getting haircuts and shopping, and we just happened to be passing a place I’d heard had an outdoor playground. (We are trying to wean our kids off those fast food restaurants that lure with the promise of playgrounds and cheap plastic toys, delighting the kids for a moment while the parents sit miserably with their “food”.) This new place was a combination sports bar and restaurant, and we were the only people who chose to sit outside in the 90-degree (or more) heat that looked like it would never abate.

As soon as we arrived, the kids took off for the play structure. Michael is a firm believer in the “no toys on playgrounds” rule, which prevents losses and fights with other kids, but, this time, we allowed Rory to take “Molly,” the latest train engine in his collection — bought only earlier that day for a not-inconsiderable price. This was probably not the best call.

Within a few moments, Rory — ever the experimenter — had lost (thrown?) Molly down into a drain that was protected not only by a steel cage, but also by a heavy grate. That bright yellow engine was right there, so tantalizingly near, yet out of arm’s reach. Michael asked our waiter whether there was a key to the cage, and, after determining that the restaurant’s manager didn’t have access, our waiter, Zach — who was maybe around 18 — decided to help us. He took off into the kitchen and emerged with the longest set of tongs I’ve ever seen. The problem was that, if one positioned oneself as close to the toy as possible, one couldn’t actually see it. Occasionally, a guy we presumed to the be manager peeked out, and we were a little worried the waiter would get into trouble. I mean, here he was, practically rolling around in the dirt when he was supposed to be waiting tables. Turns out, the manager was eager to help. And we were the waiter’s only table, so no one minded his absence.

The sight problem meant this was at least a two-person job, so out came a broom. For a while, Michael used the broom to push the toy into place, then Zach would try to close the tongs and try to lift it up. Then, after a couple of promising grasps were dropped, they switched places. It was reminiscent of one of those team-building exercises or reality-show contests, where one contestant has to rely on another to accomplish the task. By this time, a couple of the other waitstaff had come out to see what was going on, offering suggestions and groaning at every attempt that failed. The challenge was to keep the tongs tight around the toy while lifting a clenched hand through the tight grate. It was a job for someone with long arms and small fists.

At last, a particularly burly restaurant staffer strolled outside and said, “I can lift that grate.” At first he was dismissed — someone had already tried to lift it, and it seemed solidly connected to the ground. But, again, he said, “I can lift that grate.” And, indeed, he tried, and did manage to dislodge it slightly. With help, the grate was shifted to the side, inside the cage, and, without that impediment, Molly was swiftly retrieved. A cheer went up. I slipped Molly into my pocket, to save her from further peril. And, after high-fives all around, we returned to our table and the waitstaff went back to their work.

What is the place we’ve moved to, where the staffers of a restaurant dedicate so much time and energy to helping parents retrieve a child’s toy? It’s not that people aren’t friendly in Manhattan and Brooklyn, they’re just so busy. It might not have even happened in Austin, on an busier day, but how lovely it was to experience such generosity. Needless to say, we were happy to get the toy back (especially Rory), but even more valuable was the feeling we left with — the feeling that people actually care about each other and will help, if called upon. And, to answer your question, yes, of course, the waiter got a big tip.