The restaurant was packed, and by packed I mean overflowing to the gunwales. The table of twelve had finished up a while ago. While the management desperately tried to fit the waiting patrons into the remaining tables, the large party reenacted a scene from Alfred Hitchcock and Ten Little Indians. One by agonizing one they grudgingly left. Over 90 minutes later and the very last stragglers finally packed it in.
I understand that when you pay for a table that you are entitled to a certain amount of space and time. But ffs when people are falling over each other like zombies at a mall you might muster a small amount of respect for your fellow man. Or the restaurant.
Assholes like that test everyone's patience. My friend elbowed me and suggested that we just go snuggle up next to them. Just to see what they would do. Luckily shortly thereafter an actual table did open up, still, no thanks to those dipshits.
Courtesy... its what's for dinner.