Barfy and Narc-y

This post has been a long time coming. I've taken some time off from the blog since I've been feeling uninspired and, well, kind of lazy. But the time has come for the inevitable Barfy and Narc-y (B&N) post, so here goes:

We have this couple who comes in every Thursday night. They have had their "regular" servers in the past, but as staff turnovers go, they end up with a new server every few months. As it turns out, at this juncture in time, they love me. Perfect.

First off, they are old (she's about 65, he's around 80, I suppose). And to be honest, they have hearts of gold and are usually very, very nice. The own a bakery in a borough and always come in around 10:40pm. For the record, this is 20 minutes before we close and they take an hour and a half to eat. So you can imagine my delight when they hobble through the door suggesting my section.

Here's a rundown of their visit:
-As soon as I see them approaching the door I begin putting their order into the computer (which takes about 7 minutes in itself).
-They start with sparkling water and insist that one of the bus boys go to the kitchen to have their bread toasted. They don't eat butter, so they ask for marinara sauce and sauteed garlic and olive oil in which to dip their bread (the chef is thrilled to do this).
-To start they order a shrimp appetizer (no butter, no capers, no salt, not too well done) and a side of steamed broccoli (well done) with more garlic and olive oil on the side (they once asked if they chef could cook the stems and tops of the broccoli separately so the tops wouldn't turn to mush...I said no).
-Entrees are a fish dish (no butter, no salt, no capers, extra olives, extra basil, no mussels, extra shrimp) a half order of fettuccine with white clam sauce (which is usually with linguine...extra clams) and a salmon dish (no salt, no butter, light breadcrumbs and "could you ask the chef to pick us out a really large piece of salmon?")
-Before the food comes she asks me to tie a lobster bib around her neck.
-When they're finished eating they ask for to go containers ("the plastic ones, not the foil ones") and for cloth napkins with hot water and lemon to clean their faces.

You may be wondering about the nicknames. Well, here you have it:

After they pay the check. She gets up and goes into the handicapped bathroom for 15-20 minutes. I guess I should have mentioned earlier that she weighs about 97 pounds, always wears Gucci sunglasses throughout the meal, and looks like skeletor...you can imagine what goes on in that bathroom. Anyway, the husband, like clockwork, every single time, falls into a coma within three minutes of the woman leaving the table. He literally looks dead. By the end of their meal I'm the last server there and usually contemplating suicide or reading a magazine at an empty table near the back. When she finishes up in the bathroom she wakes up her husband. They leave as slowly as they came and say, "See you next week!"

I go and pick the check presenter off the table and again, sure as anything, they've left the same tip as last week: 14%.

Stellar.