What's a Matter With Helen?

Sean says...

You meet some pretty interesting people on your travels through life. Last Saturday night Stefan and I met one of those people at the Baltimore institution that is the restaurant Chiapparelli's in Little Italy. Our waitress Helen should be declared an institution unto herself. 

Stefan has decided that my birthday should be a month long celebration (which I have no quarrel ), so as part of this celebration he wanted to take me to Chiapparelli's for dinner since I am new to the Baltimore scene (I have been more DC based most of my life) and need to explore. We were running late so I popped into the restaurant to make our reservation time while Stefan parked the car.  I sat at our table and waited patiently.

"Hi hon," Helen said in her Baltimore accent as she came to the table.

"Are you going to be our mistress for the evening," I said with a little smug smile on my face  

She brightened up, "Oh yes I will be your mistress for the evening!" with a Edith Bunker kind of laugh.

She had a large poofy tangle of rinsed black hair, a bright red smear of lipstick carefully drawn on her lips, and a lightly caked application of foundation that more accentuated her late 50ish look more than hid it. Dressed in a black restaurant logoed polo shirt peppered with brown breading from various dinners she had already delivered, and well proportioned in size although not obese, she definitely made an impression.

Stefan arrived and we ordered appetizers, dinner, and dessert with a few jibs and jabs of conversation with our evening's "mistress of ceremonies."  Helen told us about her years hanging out on the corner with the neighborhood boys and all the trouble she got into. "Why do the Italian boys get no hassle and us girls had to be locked up all the time," she bemused.  Stefan ordered the tiramasu (as always) and I ordered the cannoli.  Helen surprised me with a cannoli afixed with a candle in honor of my birthday.

"Now let's all sing happy birthday now," she said bemused with herself.

I sheepishly asked, "Can we do it quietly?" l I am such a yutz!

So Stefan and Helen proceeded to sing Happy Birthday to me in Marilyn Monroe whispery tones to my amusement.  She clapped afterward like a Buddhist prayer postion, exposing the smeared lipstick on her teeth as she smiled with great joy.

Helen spoke up after I blew out the small blue ribbon candle, "You want to here the story about this lighter?" She pointed to the foldable gas lighter in her hand. "Some friends of mine who come in here all the time gave me this as a gift.  When they first gave it to me I thought it was a vibrator," she said giggling as we roared in laughter!  "I was like 'why are you giving me a vibrator!'" she pondered as we looked around to see if anyone else heard her frankness. "Can you see how I could have thought this was a vibrator," she laughed more showing her full row of upper teeth as she laughed in a snarky giggle. We agreed with her and just kept talking.

We talked for what seemed about another hour with Helen after dessert. She invited herself to sit with us after the place started to empty and just learned about her and her knowledge of the Baltimore Dorsey family.  We talked about the simple life, her jobs, and her past experiences with everything from customers to her grandmother to her juvenile deliquency growing up. She was politically incorrrect in how she talked about how the "Jews were so nice on Christmas Eve" but we knew somehow she wasn't being malicious.  But she always kept to a semblance of a lady telling tall tales but with a blue collar tinger. The whole scene was like meeting a real life member of John Waters repetory. She was great!  She had a dignity about her that was course but genuine in every way.

We had to run, since the restaurant by this time was empty and we were exhausted more from the holiday let down and work than her company. So we both gave her a hearty hug. "You made my birthday so much fun!  I don't want anyone else to sing my birthday song any other way!" I told her. And she told us to just ask for her when we come back and visit. She made it sound like we would be in tomorrow. "There's a reason why we met, y'know," she said as we said our goodbyes.  And we agreed with her, although the reason is more to enjoy her than anything else.

Stefan called the next day and told the manager how happy we were with Helen's service.

So those of you near by don't be surprised if we take you to Chiapparelli's to meet our new friend. We know you will love her too.

Helen we luv ya!