"Hold The Garbage"

Every time we would go out to eat with my Dad, he would politely order his meal, and then follow it with, "Hold The Garbage," with that charming smile and Hungarian accent. A lot of waiters and waitresses would immediately know what he meant, while others would get a look of muddlement on their faces and look around the table for an interpretation. Mike or Lori or I would sometimes whiper 'Garnish' or make a twirly motion with our index finger, representing the garnish on the side of the plate. Dad simply didn't want the giant piece of lettuce, the olive, the flower, or anything that was there to make his plate look pretty. He was there to eat, and didn't want any distractions on his plate. I thought of this last night, and smiled because it totally represented the way he lived his life. He was a no bull sh*t kind of guy. Plain and simple. I'll never be able to eat at a Mexican restaurant without thinking of Dad, and to be quite honest, I'm beginning to develop a disinclination to the green leafy stuff too.