So, there we were, Richter and I, having dinner at a nice restaurant. (By "nice," I mean they let uss sit down, look at printed menus rather than a backlit board with pictures on it, came and asked us what we wanted, and brought us food on real plates rather than in paper boxes.)
He'd finished, I was still picking at my steak, when he announces, "I am going to go make something hilarious happen to the bathroom." I figure I already have more detail than I stictly need, but finish my dinner as he strides purposefully into the little alcove in which they hide the bathroom doors.
I think nothing of it for the next few minutes, other than offering up a prayer for the soul of whoever is in charge of cleaning that bathroom that evening, until I look up and see, scurrying from the alcove, a typical Fall River gangbanger type, exiting the area with a look of utter horror on his face.
I have mentally filed that restaurant on the list of places we can't go until the statute of limitations runs out.
Pity, the steak was good.