Anxious

It's Super bowl Sunday and my last shift working at Carrabba's. I felt a twang of sadness as I left Steve Laborde's domain, I won't lie. I took my chicken breasts and walked away from my place of employment which I have known for 2 years.

Working at Carrabba's is like a sand pit. It sucks you in and you don't really want to leave. Why is this? I owe it to the people I work with, that is all. Nobody loves to serve food, get stiffed by some asshole, or do side work. But it's that time when you walk away from that asshole, scream behind the wall, and possibly get laughed at by your friends because their stiff was actually worse than yours. Or when it's so dead you try to figure out more ways to piss off Prado.

Maybe it's not the work times. Perhaps it's because it's those times just about everyone at the restaurant can go out and have a great time like everyone is life long friends. If I think about it, I'd say throw all that out. I think it's more like the times when you have certain drunk mico's hugging poles and kicking drinks out of Nick Saucier's hand that really make everything so memorable and hard to get away from this sand pit of a restaurant.

Enough of this. It's not only my last day at work it's also 2 days until I fly out to New Zealand. Cheers goes out to everyone who helped me make this decision. Everyone who has supported me in this great endeavor in which I will no doubt not only learn about a game, but will also learn about myself. An era is over and one begins anew. Am I ready? To quote an old rugby song, "You bet your ass we are."