When you work in nice restaurants for long enough there are events that you will inevitably see, such as engagements, a celebrity eating dinner (they're just like us!), and epic arguments between couples. Unfortunately, at some point in their career, most servers will also probably see one of their customers choking on food.
It's scary, for sure, and a job hazard I would be very happy not to witness again. I'm sensitive to this issue, having choked on food twice in my lifetime. Once, as a young child, I had salt water taffy lodged in my throat. My mother says I turned blue before I was saved by a giant smack on the back delivered by my father -- who had gotten a running start behind me on a Jersey shore boardwalk. The second time, I was a teenager choking on candy corn when my mother gave me the Heimlich maneuver. She tossed me around like a rag doll until the candy came up, along with a huge burp.
I'm currently teaching my son how to eat, and it is terrifying for me. Toddlers have zero clue about portion control, how to bite, or how much to chew something before they swallow it. I watch as he learns, and I can't freak out when he mashes huge quantities of something into his little mouth or winces as he forces something down that wasn't chewed properly. I act cool, lest he grow up to learn that mealtime makes Mommy a neurotic freak. It's a struggle.
WHAT I THINK MY TODDLER CAN FIT IN HIS MOUTH
WHAT MY TODDLER THINKS WILL FIT IN HIS MOUTH
Today's memorable guest was dining with her husband and friends at a country club in which I used to work. Everyone in the restaurant that evening was enjoying the same three-course menu. The entree arrived, and although I don't specifically remember what it was, I know it was a huge slab of read meat on the bone. The woman was chatting along happily with her friends when she suddenly stood up and walked toward the bartender. She wasn't communicating with him, and it slowly dawned on the staff and the other guests that she was choking. The dining room grew quiet and still in a short moment.
A guest at another table happened to be a doctor (remember: country club) and swiftly got out of his chair and administered the Heimlich maneuver. In a matter of seconds she coughed up the offending piece of meat, then proceeded to vomit on the floor behind the bar. Approximately fifty of her friends and neighbors watched the entire ordeal.
But she was bold. She returned to her table and sat out the rest of the meal with everyone else. She didn't keep eating, but neither did she run away and hide. I forget which one of us cleaned up her mess, but the fact that I don't remember means it probably wasn't me. At the end of the night, she gave the doctor a huge hug before heading home.
Just this past weekend, a woman in my current restaurant was standing by the bar, looking lost. I stopped and asked her if she needed help, and she managed to wheeze out the word "restroom." I asked her if she'd like a glass of water first, and she shook her head "no." I set off for the ladies' room, and after about ten yards I turned around to see that she was lagging behind me, patting her chest. I stopped and said, "Before I take you to the restroom, I need to know that you're okay." In a slightly more clear voice, she said, "I am okay." She was talking, so I knew she wasn't choking. I showed her the rest of the way and then stalked by the door anyway to make sure she emerged in a timely fashion. Her episode reminded me of that night in the country club, and I wasn't about to see anything unfortunate happen on my watch.
This post may be considered a PSA of sorts: learn the Heimlich maneuver, and don't be afraid to use it. If you're choking, don't wander off from your party out of embarrassment -- for real, a lot of people do that, and it is a fatal mistake. Take a lesson from today's memorable guest and get yourself taken care of out in front of the whole dining room. You can find comfort in the fact that the staff has probably seen it before.