Constance and I mostly dined at home or got carry out. She loved Costco’s cheese pizza. I’d get a box and she’d want a slice the moment we got into the car. As a result, we rarely had waitstaff to deal with.
Constance’s obvious challenges meant any rudeness from waitstaff or fellow diners we received was given to us under the guise of them knowing what was best for her. I would say something along the lines of, “I hope someday you’re lucky enough to have a child with disabilities so they can benefit for your expertise.” When what I wanted to say was, “Hey jackass, just bring my daughter the food I ordered for her the way she likes it.”
Once, a waiter covered her pizza in the hot peppers from our table. No eight-year-old wants someone sprinkling hot peppers on their pizza. Of course, if Constance wanted that she or I could have put it on her pizza ourselves. He didn’t because she doesn’t. Constance couldn’t eat the spicy pizza. She shook her head in pain as she picked the pizza off her tongue. I asked for Constance’s pizza to be replaced. The waiter refused. Constance ended up pulling off the cheese and just eating the crust with tomato sauce. We did not return to that restaurant again. I owe them a very belated Yelp review.
When Giordano’s put a fundraiser for autism on the homepage of their website, I took that as a sign they were welcoming of people with challenges. Subsequently, we had several successful dining excursions there. Their staff was always accommodating and the food was fantastic. On one occasion, we drove over an hour to get to their Morton Grove location. When Constance’s cousins visited from Arizona and wanted to experience Chicago-style pizza, we took them there. Constance loved it. Her cousins did too. Constance would do this little happy dance in her seat. It was wonderful.