Having drawn a basket of crisp potatoes out of the deep-well fryer, Jill pivoted and threw the hot contents of the basket in Rightie’s face. Having drawn two sixteen-ounce beers from the draft spigot, ostensibly to put them on the counter for the waitress who requested them, Phil instead splashed the contents of one mug and then the other into the golden eyes of the man on my left, just as the guy on my right got an order of fries that he hadn’t requested. Behind me, I heard Pinkie Krankauer say, “Don’t even think about it,” as she dumped a tray heaped with dirty dishes into the laps of the
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