“At first, Dad seemed to appreciate the restaurant’s pleasant atmosphere,” related Amelia Hayes, reminiscing about how the votive holders placed on each table had filled the restaurant with a warm, flickering glow. “But Dad soon began muttering about the lack of sufficient lighting.”

“I knew it was over once Dad started squinting at the normal-sized print of the menu,” recounted Hayes, shuddering as she described the way the beam of her father’s phone flashlight sliced through the restaurant’s ambiance like a knife through brie. “I edged the little tealight closer toward him in case that helped at all. I even offered to read the menu out loud, but it was no use. There was just no stopping him.”

At press time, ambient jazz was no match for full-volume Clash of Clans.