Being the out of control do-gooder I am, I get to go to some odd charity events from time to time. The events are always for a good cause, mind you. But every once and awhile you’ll get an overzealous event planner with delusions of grandeur. Or one who is just plain delusional. Regardless, it’s always fun to hobnob, see and be seen and shell out a ridiculous amount of money on silent auction items.
I typically go with my dear friend Mithra to all these philanthropic events. 1) Because Mithra pays and 2) because Mithra is charitable like me … uh, and, again, she pays. If you ever have the opportunity to pay $10,000 to have dinner with Danny Glover, don’t do it. That’s all I’m going to say about that. The man is nuts. We excused ourselves before dessert.
On Wednesday, Mithra and I went to “Dinner on Ice” … an event for the Boys/Girls Club of Kansas City. The premise? You eat dinner at a hockey rink and the hockey players are your wait staff. Seems KC has unveiled a new minor league hockey team, The Mavericks. This was the organization’s chance to buddy up with some of KC’s movers and shakers. And while the players weren’t exactly great servers, they were good sports. (Get it?)
Our waiter, Mike, was the reserve goalie. He was pleasant and affable and Southern. He also had no idea what he was doing. I said, “Stick with me, kid. This ain’t my first time at the rodeo.” In order to be served anything, you had to tip you servers. You want silverware? $5. Salt and pepper? $2 each. And so it went. Midway through the meal, I realized I’d already “donated” $25. At the rate I was going, I wasn’t going to get dessert. I immediately leaned over and begged Mithra to give me $20. She obliged, but only because it was “for the children”.
I took one of my co-workers, Scott, along for the ride. He’s a hockey fanatic. Eats, sleeps and breaths the sport. And while I could NOT possibly care less about the game, I thought he’d have fun. He seemed to enjoy himself, but I think he was waiting for a couple hockey players to throw down and start beating the living crap out of each other. I know this because he said, “When are they gonna start beating the living crap out of each other, dammit? It’s not a charity event unless there is blood!” Alas … that never happened. Maybe I should have tipped a couple of the guys to get in to fisticuffs.
Once people got a few drinks in them, they started tipping the players for odd requests. $50 to take their shirts off. $100 to sing a song by Journey. $30 to speak in a French accent the rest of the night. I wasn’t very creative, I guess. I paid $20 to have our waiter do 20 push-ups. Once I realized I could get Mike to do just about anything, I quickly demanded another $100 from Mirtha …
… uh, for the children.