Comedy at the Crib

So Saturday Night Coordinator's meeting took place this week during the noon hour on Wednesday, as it always does. We met at Rib Crib. I'm not sure why exactly things transpired as they did, but it sure was worth a laugh.

Eddie, Brad, and myself were sitting before the meeting in the group room, shooting the breeze. In the middle of this conversation, a Rib Crib employee flew past the group room door shouting, "CODE YELLOW! Heads up!! We're going CODE YELLOW!!"

The three of us paused our conversation to gawk at the hole in the space-time continuum that the urgent employee had just left. I wondered out loud what the deuce "Code Yellow" actually meant.

Are terrorists attacking? Is it someone's birthday? Did someone find the Virgin Mary enshrined in the coleslaw? Did the giant vat of mustard in the kitchen finally run dry?

Alas, we shall never know.

After this odd moment had passed and normal conversation resumed, a surprisingly sudden wave of loud music assaulted our eardrums. The noise was enough to prohibit normal conversation, so I excused myself to resolve the issue.

There just so happened to be a meeting of employees outside the group room door. I'm not sure why they were there; perhaps they were defining the precise meaning of "Code Yellow." I approached the one who looked the most like the manager, and requested that the music be turned off.

In pig latin.

I'm not sure why I resorted to a dead language hailing from the forgotten and bygone days of middle school. All I know is that it came without thought and that I felt proud of my eloquence. "Ixnay on the usicmay." Perfectly understandable! Concise, clear, and even slightly comedic. It never crossed my mind that there may be people who have successfully resisted the persistent efforts of irrelevant culture making inroads into their psyche during the formative years of junior high.

However, today I ran across such a specimen who could not appreciate, much less comprehend, my mastery of early teenage communication. My astuteness was received with a blank stare broken by a slightly twitching eyebrow.

Fortunately, our waitress happened to be standing nearby. An obvious pillar of understanding, she grasped my request and speedily resolved the issue. I bet she also figured out what "Code Yellow" meant. Sharp young lady.

After these events, our meeting continued unhindered. I did have to resist the urge to call out "Code (insert random adjective here)!!"

I wonder how next week will go.