Birthday Cake Is No Mistake

Whenever I went to a diner with my college friends, you had to be careful how much you drank. It wasn’t about winding up as a designated driver. I’m talking about going to the bathroom, and coming back to find you’re the designated “birthday boy.”

It all started innocently enough. I forget which friend’s actual birthday it was. But when he emerged from the bathroom and approached the table, we all broke into “Happy Birthday.” Patrons clapped, some even joined in, and the wait staff watched with interest.

When we were done eating, our waitress brought over a piece of cake with a lit candle on top. She and another waitress sang “Happy Birthday” to our friend, who happily chowed down on the free treat.

Two weeks later, on a Saturday night around midnight, we found ourselves seated in a different diner. Someone else excused himself to use the facilities. Upon his return, we launched into a rousing version of “Happy Birthday.” Patrons clapped, some even joined in, and the wait staff watched with interest.

“It’s not my birthday,” he whispered.

“No,” Des replied. “It’s just your turn.”

Our waitress brought over a scoop of chocolate ice cream with a candle. She apologized and said, “We just served the last piece of our cake.”