Waiter! Keep the Bill, Please!
There is a habit, not at all laudable, of ordering food at a restaurant, or a drink at a bar, and then leaving without paying. The habit exists in just about the entire world. Sometimes it's caused by necessity, but other times by a hatred of giving up one's precious money.
There are few who have never even contemplated doing a "sinpa" or sin pagar, and leave without paying for one service or another. Until recently, some have even done it at the automatic toll booths on the highway. Someone approaches, and waits for a car that pays telematically with a device that pings off an antenna in the booth. Then, they stick to the back of the car with the device, and rush through before the barrier slams down. Things have changed now, though, cameras have been installed, and it's been declared a more expensive crime with a hefty fine.
Some have done it unconsciously, drinking at a bar, and walking out without remembering to pay for it. Generally, if they're honest, they return, admit their fault, and pay. If they're never passing that way again, then they might continue on their way without a second thought. And then there are those who elevate doing a sinpa into an art form, like an extended family of Romanian gypsies that dwell somewhere in León province.
In the middle of February, a wedding was celebrated at a restaurant in Ponferrada, León. It was nicely multitudinous; about two hundred guests. Good food was on the menu, and so were bottles of expensive whiskey for every table. It wasn't a cheap wedding. It wasn't short, either. The party showed up at five in the afternoon for a supper wedding, not very common, but not unique. They spent the night eating and then drinking and dancing. At around six in the morning, after the musicians had finally retired, one of the guests asked the remaining waiter, who happened to be the manager, for two coffees. While the manager went out to the bar, the entire wedding party stampeded out the door. The owner, who was in the kitchen, was able to jot down a couple of license plates of two of the luxury cars the party had driven up in thirteen hours earlier. Then he cried for the ten thousand euros he had just seen run out the door.
Two weeks later, a luncheon was held to celebrate a baptism in Bembibre, also in León province. About a hundred twenty guests had shown up to celebrate, after having paid a deposit of nine hundred euros. General happiness, laughter, good times, good food, good music. When the waiters started to arrive with the dessert, the guests started to form a conga line. As the music accompanied, the line snaked its way through the restaurant, up one side, past some tables, down the other side, around other tables - and out the front door. In a matter of a minute or two, the waiters were left alone, still holding the plates with the dessert, not sure just what to do with them any more in the empty dining room. The owner was left alone with a debt of two thousand euros, completely sure he would never see any of it. Again, luxury cars scooted away, leaving only dust behind.
Other restaurants have since come forward, and told of their near brushes with the debt monster. But they, having their suspicions, demanded full payment before the event to be celebrated. After some promises, the celebrants never returned. The restaurateurs thanked the gods watching over them.
Some people are beyond bold, and beyond shameless. They also know how to eat well for free.
There are few who have never even contemplated doing a "sinpa" or sin pagar, and leave without paying for one service or another. Until recently, some have even done it at the automatic toll booths on the highway. Someone approaches, and waits for a car that pays telematically with a device that pings off an antenna in the booth. Then, they stick to the back of the car with the device, and rush through before the barrier slams down. Things have changed now, though, cameras have been installed, and it's been declared a more expensive crime with a hefty fine.
Some have done it unconsciously, drinking at a bar, and walking out without remembering to pay for it. Generally, if they're honest, they return, admit their fault, and pay. If they're never passing that way again, then they might continue on their way without a second thought. And then there are those who elevate doing a sinpa into an art form, like an extended family of Romanian gypsies that dwell somewhere in León province.
In the middle of February, a wedding was celebrated at a restaurant in Ponferrada, León. It was nicely multitudinous; about two hundred guests. Good food was on the menu, and so were bottles of expensive whiskey for every table. It wasn't a cheap wedding. It wasn't short, either. The party showed up at five in the afternoon for a supper wedding, not very common, but not unique. They spent the night eating and then drinking and dancing. At around six in the morning, after the musicians had finally retired, one of the guests asked the remaining waiter, who happened to be the manager, for two coffees. While the manager went out to the bar, the entire wedding party stampeded out the door. The owner, who was in the kitchen, was able to jot down a couple of license plates of two of the luxury cars the party had driven up in thirteen hours earlier. Then he cried for the ten thousand euros he had just seen run out the door.
Two weeks later, a luncheon was held to celebrate a baptism in Bembibre, also in León province. About a hundred twenty guests had shown up to celebrate, after having paid a deposit of nine hundred euros. General happiness, laughter, good times, good food, good music. When the waiters started to arrive with the dessert, the guests started to form a conga line. As the music accompanied, the line snaked its way through the restaurant, up one side, past some tables, down the other side, around other tables - and out the front door. In a matter of a minute or two, the waiters were left alone, still holding the plates with the dessert, not sure just what to do with them any more in the empty dining room. The owner was left alone with a debt of two thousand euros, completely sure he would never see any of it. Again, luxury cars scooted away, leaving only dust behind.
Other restaurants have since come forward, and told of their near brushes with the debt monster. But they, having their suspicions, demanded full payment before the event to be celebrated. After some promises, the celebrants never returned. The restaurateurs thanked the gods watching over them.
Some people are beyond bold, and beyond shameless. They also know how to eat well for free.
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| "And when the music begins with 'pechito con pechito, cachete con cachete,' we escape at full speed along route A." "They're doing the evacuation plan for the wedding banquet." |
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