Sharing a sopapilla

When we lived in Denver, there was a Mexican restaurant called Casa Benita.  It was as big as a small village.  How did the servers not get lost?  No matter how full you were at the end of a meal, you HAD to eat the sopapilla for dessert.  It was similar to an elephant ear from the fair, hot, deep fried, tender and fluffy, then drizzled with honey...... 

When we moved here, our first experience at La Hacienda was astonishingly different.  Same

dynamics of fullness after the mexican blue plate special and the complimentary sopapilla afterwards,  except, when the waiter asked us if we wanted both of them, we wisely and health- consciously declined both and laughingly told him we would just share one.  He scratched his head, shrugged and dutifully brought back what looked like one very small triangle of deep fried tortilla, like a chip, dabbed with a small puff of whipped cream and a small piece of a strawberry.  It looked pitiful and did I mention small?  It broke, of course, when Craig offered me my miniature bite.  He good-naturedly  licked up the remaining  crumbs.  But the look on his face and maybe on mine when the waiter set it down.....we looked at each other, looked at it, looked back at each other and howled like we had had 5 margaritas.  Did the waiter think it was funny?