michael?

I was sitting on the floor cushions in the restaurant of my hotel. It was about eleven o'clock at night. Every so often the power would short and plunge the guests into darkness. A group of Israeli's sat to my left listening to bad music and smoking too many drugs.

One of the Israeli's had a jokey conversation with the waiter and ordered a drink as the waiter headed out i called for an orange juice. He nodded and smiled and headed into the darkness.

Ten minutes later after an interesting conversation with an Israeli Marxist a different waiter returned. On his tray sat a glass of juice.

'Michael' He called but was met with silence. 'Michael' He shouted again. We all looked at one another. There was no Michael here.
'Michael' The waiter persisted. Still no answer. Then the first waiter arrived. He took the tray from his colleague and bellowed.
'MICHAEL?!'
Michael was no where to be seen. The waiters shrugged at one another as the first waiter said more quietly.
'Michael?'
The two waiters whispered in the half light.

'Excuse me' I said. 'Is that an orange juice?'
'Yes. Michael?' the waiter replied.
'No Sarah although I might look like a Michael but that's definitely my drink.'

The waiter passed me the glass of juice to laughter of stoned Israelis.