Well, wouldn’t you know, I’m going out at [the restaurant where i work] with a big, fat bang. Last night at 7:30, when the sun goes down and the people get hungry, I was busy. Really busy. I got double-sat* and had to give wine service at Table 23, while 26 was finished eating and wanted more decaf.

I treated both new tables like one big one and swooped back by with a tray full of wine–a South African chardonnay, a cheap cabarnet and two mid-priced pinot noirs. I stopped at Table 24 and gingerly sat down the chilled white wine. A shriek and an "Oh! Baby!" rang out in my ears before I watched, stunned, as all three glasses of red wine rained down on the man at my right. I swear I don’t know how it happened. Broken glass littered the ground and wine rushed over the edge of the table in a sheet. I looked over at the man I’d bathed in stinky, staining red wine. He was laughing.

"I. Am so. Sorry," I said. And I meant it. I was so sorry. I landed my liquid-topped tray on an empty chair and ran to gather linen and soda water. Like that was going to help. He was fucking COVERED. By the time I was back my manager was at the table with a broom and dustpan sweeping up all the pieces, all the while calmly explaining to the wine-doused gentleman that we’d gladly compensate him for the shirt or the cleaning bill, whichever the case may be. Another server crouchedd with a towel in her hand picking up the large pieces she could handle without incident. Each of us moved swiftly and quietly as though this were all just part of the show.

"This is so humiliating," I confessed to him. "Is there anything at all I can do to make you feel more comfortable?" He turned to me, smiled and said, "Look. It’s not acid. It’s just wine. You carry stuff for a living so your chances of dropping something are pretty high. This is something we can tell our kids about."

"Or the internet," I said. Actually no, I didn’t.

I couldn’t believe how gracious he was. He was just so nice. When I told him we were taking care of the tab he double-checked to make sure I wouldn’t be stuck with his bill. I assured him I wouldn’t.

Even my other tables were nice about it. Everyone was patient when I told them their wine would be another minute since guy in the corner took a bath in it. And this sweet old lady said, "I admire you. I really do. I would have started crying and run in the back and never come out. You really kept your cool."

I was surprised to find fat tips from all the tables in attendance of my little performance. Seems I should have spilled wine a few more times in these past ten years of waitressing. I expect people to be dicks, mostly, after being in the service industry for so long, but really people are mostly nice and considerate and don’t mean much harm. Took me quite a while to figure that out.

*Restaurant lingo for two tables being seated simultaneously.