"I don't like nuts" means I don't want nuts on my #$&$&# sundae

I don't like nuts.  Never have.  Never will.  I don't like the taste.  Don't like the smell. Don't like the texture.  I don't like nuts.

Not peanuts.  Not walnuts.  Not almonds.  Not macadamias.  Not pecans.

While I have been known occasionally to grab a handful of cashews, that doesn't really count. I still hate NUTS!

And for the longest time, people never took me seriously. Long before the nut allergy frenzy that we live in today, people dismissed not "liking" something as trivial.

Scars Run Deep

I can remember being out for dinner with my girlfriend in college back in the early '90s.  We were at Houlihan's in Weehawken on the waterfront at the peak of its popularity.  The crowds were crazy.  Thousands of people on a weekend night.  It was always packed.

We had enjoyed a nice dinner, and I decided to order an ice cream sundae to cap it off.  I asked the waiter if the sundae had nuts, and he said it did.  So, I explained that I didn't really like nuts and didn't want any on my sundae. "No problem, sir," he said, as he looked around the restaurant at all the beautiful patrons and potential big tippers.

"No nuts? No problem!"

I had fallen for this before.  It's "no problem" until the waiter forgets, the guy in the kitchen makes the standard sundae. and I am left sitting there biting into nuts when all I wanted was some nice ice cream.  Blech!

So, I stopped the waiter who seemed a bit distracted and said, "Seriously, I hate nuts, so please make sure there aren't any on my sundae."  He chuckled like this was a silly question and said, "No problem."

You know what happens next.  Sure enough, my chocolate sundae comes out, gets placed on the table in front of me and BINGO!  Walnuts splattered all over my sundae.  Aaarrgghh!

The truth is .... people don't take "not liking" something seriously.

Upping the Ante

Flash forward a few years later.  I was at a  restaurant on Long Beach Island with a bunch of friends.  We had enjoyed a nice dinner and I decided to order a brownie sundae.  Now a brownie sundae is very tricky.  At least with a regular sundae the walnuts are on top.  With a brownie sundae, you don't know what you've got in there until you bite into that brownie -- and you wind up with crunchy nuts in your mouth and it ruins your entire meal.

I had gotten older and wiser since Houlihan's, so this time when I asked for my brownie sundae from the waiter I decided to up the ante. I asked him if the brownie had nuts in it.  He said he didn't think so in a dismissive, "why does it matter, dude" type of tone.

I stopped the waiter and said with a meaningful pause, "Can you check because I am DEATHLY ALLERGIC to nuts."

I don't know what made me say "deathly allergic" that night. It may have been the scars of countless other waiters who dismissed my comment about hating nuts, not liking nuts, not wanting nuts, etc.  It may have been the joking, good mood we were all in that night.  I may have just tossed it out there as a social experiment.

The waiter brought out the brownie sundae.  Three scoops of chocolate ice cream topped with a mountain of whip cream and chocolate syrup .  All of it sitting on one of those gigantic TollHouse chocolate chip cookie brownies.  It was beautiful.
I gave the brownie a skeptical look.  My friends joked about  nuts being in the brownie, having never heard me say I was deathly allergic before.  As I was about to dive in, the young waiter came flying out of the kitchen, tripping over himself a la Jack Tripper from Three's Company, and grabbed my plate.  Apparently, his boss told him the brownie had nuts.

Finally, people paid attention.  It didn't matter if you spent years politely saying you hated nuts or didn't like nuts.  If you wanted their attention, say you're "deathly allergic."

I used this statement many more times over the years and I never had an issue with my desserts. It became a running joke with my family and friends.

The Joke Is On Me

Several years later, however, my wife Elena and I were visiting some very good friends in London and we went to a posh restaurant for dinner. Once again, we enjoyed a great dinner and I decided to cap it off with brownie sundae.  I asked the waiter about nuts in the brownies, and I told him I was DEATHLY ALLERGIC to nuts.

Now, this wasn't Houlihan's or some 18 year-old waiter in LBI.  This was the big leagues.  And as we sat there, I noticed a cluster of waiters and staff gathering in a corner of the restaurant, talking in whispers and looking in our direction.  Finally, the maitre d' came over.

"Sir, the waiter told me that you are allergic to nuts.  May I ask if you are feeling okay?" he said.  "I feel fine," I replied.

The maitre d' then explained to me that they were very concerned and were about to call an ambulance because the fish I had eaten was encrusted in NUTS. Ooops.  It tasted delicious.  Who knew!

I apologized profusely to the maitre d' and explained that I wasn't exactly allergic, blah, blah, blah.  Needless to say, my wife and friends were ready to kill me for causing such a scene -- and my  "fatal" allergy was miraculously cured -- forever.

As proof that God has a sense of humor -- or maybe a sense of irony -- today I have a wonderful six-year old son named Will. Cutest kid you'll ever see. Will is allergic -- SERIOUSLY allergic -- to nuts ... to shellfish ... and to all sorts of things.  Times have changed. Waiters will fall all over you when you utter the word allergies nowadays in a restaurant. And, I carry my bag of Will gear with me whenever we go out on the weekends -- epi-pen, inhaler -- whatever we might need.  I don't really like to put the words "death" and "allergies" in the same sentence any more -- unless I am telling a story about me being an ass.  ;)