But at least I didn't have my head up Saragosa's ass.
Or did I?
I had MY evening planned out one week in advance. San Ho and Chicag-o at 4:30 as a little snack. The Columbus/Chivas clash at 7:30 to get me hungry for the main course: Red Bulls at Dallas.
At least that's how it was supposed to work. Best laid plans, etc., etc. We had a friend in town. Who wanted to take us out to dinner (hence all these menu metaphors). It was a mighty conflict. On the one hand, soccer. On the other, dinner out. I get asked out to dinner twice a year, on my birthday and Mother's Day (and I generally say no to that one, because the kids - who are after all the reason I am a mother - are not invited). But of course, it was just assumed that I would be happy to go, and drive, to boot! This is where the indigestion comes in. I internalized the debate, rather than stand my indecisive ground - which is handy. You don't have to commit, so you can bitch about it either way. We were to meet at 8, smack dab in the middle of prime soccer, and they were late. At 8:15 I called Austin and asked him to record the Red Bulls. AT 8:45, when our host began calling the waiter 'bubbe', I gave up on live soccer.
Because sometimes life just throws you under the Experience Train, whether you wanna go or not. And this was an experience, fer sure.
I have never been in a more schizophrenic restaurant. I won't name names, because I actually feel pity for them. They're trying their best, after all, in their own peculiar way. I'm no decorator. I won't pretend to have Michelin credentials. But I'm not naming names, so that forgives a lot of mockery.
Three Points to Ponder:
1. Wait staff in black and white - good. Candles and cloth napkins but no table cloths? - bad. Very bad. Silk flowers instead of genuine? Worse. A pianist playing a Billy Joel medley? Hein-ous.
2. There's a difference between a vaulted ceiling and an indoor basketball court. Also, lights should flatter, not terrify!
3. Steak tips with peppers and onions are meant to be served ON a bed of rice, not beside it. And medium should have a bit of pink.
Two Strikes Against:
1. It took 20 minutes to get a beer. And a) there were about 7 people in this entire restaurant (including staff) and b) we were staring at the bartender as she dawdled and loafed. Our waiter, bless his heart, stood by the table and 'tried to get her attention', which I guess is the polite way to say 'tried to get her to move her ass.'
2. The 3 Points to Ponder above mean you ain't gonna charge me $18.99 for steak tips and a companion bowl of rice twice. In this case, not even once. Thanks, M!
The Straw That Broke This Camel's Back
They had a tv. But it was on freakin' HOCKEY. Hockey! That's just cold, man. Cold.
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