Finally, when our meal was done. Yes we had to listen this though out our whole meal. We asked for the check. Over in the kitchen we could hear some of the workers chatting in Spanish. My friend, who understands Spanish, starts cracking up. Apparently, these people were the resistance movement. They were openly mocker miss dinner despot. It wasn't their fault that she didn't speak their language. We left a few disparaging remarks for the Table wear Tyrant, but she never got them since they were written in crayon on the place mats that were bussed off the table. To us she was just a pathetic wannabe, even though in her world she was the Queen of Ketchup. It just goes to show how ridiculous you look when you think you are at your coolest. Just something to keep in mind.