The Day I Was Assaulted At The Asian Buffet …

If this little guy had come into the restaurant with dirty boots, I could have found forgiveness in my heart for his transgression. The two guys wearing dirty boots this week weren’t anywhere near this cute. Thus, no mercy.

It’s fair to say that when you go to a buffet, you should probably expect a certain level of gross that you don’t have to tolerate at a typical restaurant.

There is the kid with a runny nose, wiping it off with his hand right before grabbing for the buffet spoon. Check.

There is the guy who sneezes at the buffet line. Check.

There is the guy that looks like he just crawled out of some hole in the ground covered with dirt, grease and who knows what else. Check.

(I’m going to be a gentleman and just pick on the male species this time out. You’re welcome, ladies.)

But my expectations of gross were completely blown out the nose the other day when a friend and I were at a buffet of the Asian variety in Yankton.

Two guys and a girl entered the restaurant, and suddenly a terrible smell wafted over to our table. It was the smell of a farmyard. It was not the kind of smell that complements Asian cuisine.

As my friend and I watched (and smelled) in amazement, these two young men with knee-high rubber boots went through the buffet and sat down behind us. Their boots were not clean and pristine, however. They were literally covered in what one could only assume was manure. The fecal matter went beyond the length of their boots and also covered their pants.

As someone who grew up on a farm, I was still in complete amazement. This was a full-on nose assault.

Who decides that, after they’ve been out chasing cattle and being covered in crap (or whatever these guys had done), it’s time to go hang out with people at a buffet?

“No, Larry, going through the drive-through for fast food just won’t do for me today. Me and my sh*tkickers want to plop down at the buffet line. Heck, maybe I’ll pick some of the leftovers on my boots and use them as seasoning on my coconut shrimp. You can never have enough coco on the shrimp.”

I would give these guys some credit if it appeared they were doing it as a sort of prank.

“Larry, let’s get covered with crap and see if we can clear out a restaurant. That would be … soooo … coooool.”

However, there was no sense of glee on their faces. They just looked hungry.

And as far as I could tell, everyone else at the restaurant just put up with it. I was in the fortunate position of being at the end of my meal. My friend and I left that stench behind ASAP.

If I was the restaurant owner, I definitely would have thought about denying them service. I’m just saying, the smell was bad.

At the very least, it would have had me contemplating an addition to my rules sign:

No shirt.

No shoes.

Sh*t on your boots.

No service.

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