Kitchen God Rest Ye Merry Idiots

The holidays mean a round of social events - just what every person on the Autism Spectrum adores.  Our holiday season officially commences with the celebration of the anniversary of the R.A.'s arrival on our lowly planet.  On December 14 the R.A. turned the big "0-8" (Although if you ask him how old he is he still insists he's seven.  No doubt he's annoyed at having finally learned to respond "seven" to the age question only to discover that we've now apparently arbitrarily changed the answer to "eight": "Is there no consistency on this Kitchen God forsaken planet?!")

Next up was the holiday show at the R.A.'s Institute of Earth Enculturation a.k.a. his school.  There are approximately 120 students at the R.A.'s school, ranging in age from preschool through young adulthood.  Putting on a Christmas Extravaganza at any school is a huge project.  Putting on a Christmas Extravaganza at a school like the R.A.'s is nothing short of miraculous and a true testament to the dedication and sheer fabulousness of the staff.  Each class offered a presentation, either live or played a pre-recorded video.  They were wonderful.  And you could tell the students were excited and had a great time.  It was an event that was joyful and touching.  It really was the best Christmas pageant ever.

The R.A.'s class, no doubt following the "saving the best for almost last" principle, performed second to last.  They presented a very rigorous interpretation of "Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree" which consisted of his teachers and fellow students joining hands and merrily skipping/running like crank maniacs around a Christmas tree.  I'm telling you, it was better than "Cats."

Following the show my husband and I decided  to take the R.A. out for lunch to celebrate his stage debut.  Unfortunately we made the fatal mistake of assumption.  Lately the R.A. has had little to no serious issues when visiting an establishment for the first time.  Stupidly we assumed he would be delighted to dine at a new restaurant.  I don't know if the R.A. was still suffering from the heady effects of his Tony worthy performance but he had a full blown DIVA tantrum.

Things immediately hit the skids when we were seated in the bar.  This outraged the R.A. who no doubt was insulted by the sheer impertinence of the hostess to park us in such uncouth dining accommodations: "The bar?  Surely you must be joking!  Do you not know who I am?  In addition to being the future dictator of your little backward and backwater planet I am a future Tony award winner!  Have you not seen my performance of 'Sixth Boy to the Right of the Occupational Therapist from 'Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree?'  It was compelling, finely textured, and subtly nuanced.  And my feet made the most noise on the hardwood floor."

With it being the last Friday before Christmas and being located in the middle of several office parks, the joint was jumping.  It was loud.  It was crowded.  It was crammed full of loathsome Earth creatures.  Not exactly up the R.A.'s alien alley.

Before arriving we did make the requisite McD stop for fries and nuggets.  Of course the people at McD forgot to put any ketchup (or napkins) in the bag.  So we sat in our booth in the bar with the R.A. violently waving a naked fry at my husband and yowling something which I'm sure translated into, "What is wrong with this picture, Big Man?!  Surely even a simpleton like yourself can figure this one out!"  Our server kept sprinting by our table and despite my husband's and my efforts to flag him down for some (insert expletive here) ketchup it was a futile endeavor.  I know it was loud and busy in there but surely the server could hear the caterwauls of fury and see our desperation as we waved our arms with a wildness that one usually reserves for flagging down rescue helicopters while trapped on the side of a mountain (admittedly a more enviable position than what we were currently in.)

Finally the server stopped at our table.  He got through a cheerful, "Hi, my name is (name has been omitted to protect the innocent) and I'll be your server..." when my husband cut him off, "Can we have some ketchup?"  Bemused by the request the server stopped in mid-syllable.  "Our son has Autism and is in the middle of a meltdown so if you could grab us some ketchup that would be great," I hastily explained.  The server finally understood the urgency of the situation and turned and snagged a bottled of ketchup from the table behind him.  Those diners looked bewildered but hey, all's fair in love and R.A. meltdowns. Go get your own damn ketchup.

"Thank you!" my husband snatched the bottle and squirted it out.  I don't know if his nerves were jangled but he bungled the operation, making the inexcusable error of also coating some nuggets with ketchup.  Not surprisingly the R.A. took this as an unforgivable affront to his station and reacted with ire.

"What did you do that for?" I hissed at my husband, my frayed nerves shredding finer and finer with each caterwaul.

"I didn't do it on purpose!" My husband hissed back.  "McD neglected to put napkins in the bag.  I had to improvise."

The server cleared his throat.  In the heat of the ketchup battle we forgot he was there.  Hastily we gave our orders and he sprinted off not reappearing until we put out a Missing Person's Bulletin on him.

Despite finally having his ketchup, the R.A. was not to be calmed (no doubt related to the snafu of the presentation of his meal.) His yowls grew in decibels and his hand flapping and body rocking increased.  Obviously we were a HUUUGGEEE hit with the other diners.  Apparently the group seated behind me was glaring at us.  My husband, fearing I might be compelled to initiate a friendly and informational discussion about "Autism, My Son, and What the Hell Are You Looking At?" decided not to tell me about it.  Yes, a wise decision because at that point I may have gone all "Kill Bill" on their Yuppie backsides.  Or worse, moved the R.A. to their table for lunch.

In a desperate attempt to calm the R.A. I did sing the three officially sanctioned Christmas songs.  Thank the Kitchen God that I am a children's librarian and therefore not self-conscious while shaking my antlers in public and warbling, "If you're a reindeer and you know it shake your antlers."  Although the R.A. did bark out song requests he remained highly agitated.  Ultimately we decided to get the order to go.  We then engaged in another rousing round of  "Server, Why Can't You See Us When That Air National Guard Rescue Chopper Flying Overhead Did."  Oddly, the server did not appear surprised  by our request to get the food to go.

My husband remained in the restaurant to pay for and collect the food while I dragged/wrestled/tugged the R.A. out to the car.  Once ensconced in the vehicle he sat serenely, gazing out the window.  Apparently all the R.A. wanted was a window seat.