|
 It’s
fun to witness life unfold in front of you. My sweet niece and her
husband were kind enough to invite me to dinner this past weekend.
They wanted to take me to a restaurant where I had never been. There
was a new place in town that I had been eyeing so I knew exactly
where to go.
Our first mistake was to walk through the rear door. We thought it
was the correct door, but upon entering an empty dining room we
realized our error. We kept walking and discovered the accurate
entry place. A couple of people sat silently at the bar and ensued
staring at us. The staff wasn’t much better.
“When you wait for a server in a restaurant, doesn’t that make you
the waiter?” author unknown.
“Are you open?” I ventured to ask. “Of course.” was the detached
reply.
“Where do we sit?” I attempted to start a conversation of some sort.
“Anyplace.” came the impassive reply. Doing our best, we quickly
chose unwisely. Sitting in the dining room we were told we had to
order at the front. Meekly rising and retracing our steps, we tread
where we had just trod. The eatery was a BBQ place. The décor was
more of a Mexican style. That’s ok. I love Mexican cuisine. There
was Spanish music blaring from the speakers. I ordered a margarita
and they looked at me like I had grown another head. I gazed at my
niece for help. “When in Rome…..” she advised. I repeated my request
and the bartender disdainfully explained she would have to shake my
drink. I agreed. She told me to sit down. It would take a while.
We humbly yet again trekked across the empty dining room and sat
down to study the menus we had picked up at the bar. It was a
lovely, enticing menu full of delectable pictures and descriptions.
My room temperature margarita came just in time to drink with our
microwaved frozen onion rings. This truly wasn’t going well. Our
conversation was lively and we caught up with one another
easily…..as there were no other diners to detract from our
tete-a-tete. It. Was. Weird. Our meal came at last. It wasn’t good.
It wasn’t bad. It was bland.
The waitress did ask if we wanted another drink and I asked for a
Diet Coke. Rolling her eyes, she stomped off and came back with
three stacked plastic glasses and told us to go behind the wall and
get our own and she would add it to the bill. As I tried to decide
which were my mashed potatoes and which was my cornbread, my niece
took a watchful attitude. Halfway through the pile of brown mush I
found some white mashed potatoes. Eureka! My niece gave a mighty
cheer and we celebrated. Her husband admonished me not to eat it.
Some of you are wondering why we stayed. “As a child my family’s
menu consisted of two choices: take it or leave it.” Buddy Hackett.
I was raised the same way. It’s hard to change at my age.
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“Nothing would be more tiresome than eating and drinking if God had
not made them a pleasure as well as a necessity” Voltaire.
After church the next day, another band of us decided to go out to
eat breakfast at a truck stop. As we surveyed our multiple paged
menus, I filled them in on the trials and tribulations of the past
evening. I pronounced it good to be in our present environment. I
spoke too soon.
A nervous waitress appeared loudly clearing her throat. I knew this
was not going to be good. She proceeded to announce, “Do not panic.
We have a fire in the kitchen. We need you to calmly evacuate the
building.”
Well let me tell you this…...informing me to stay calm immediately
puts me in a frenzy mode. There was a fire. At a truck stop. Lots of
gasoline pumps. I deemed this was not a good situation.
I looked on in awe as a few people consumed what was left on their
plates. Others casually grasped their coffee cups as they ambled out
of the dining room.
Into the cold we marched. I headed for the car. I was asked where I
was going. Anywhere but here was my answer. I had not driven so I
was on the losing side of this argument. They wanted to see this
adventure out. I did get to sit in the car to stay warm as other
members of my entourage eagerly watched the proceedings from the
great outdoors. The ambulance and fire department came. Some members
of the dining room group left. I imagined it was the people that had
finished their breakfast but had not yet paid for it. No dummies in
this group. It was amazing to watch people sipping on coffee….
outside a restaurant…in Illinois…in January…waiting to see if a
building was going to burn down or blow up. The hurry up and do
something in me…. even if it’s wrong…. was making my teeth itch. I
was hungry. I was angry. I was hangry. I needed food and away from
all this stimulation. I didn’t want to blow up famished. I was
thinking restaurants were not what they used to be.
Finally, we got the all clear and everyone yet again sauntered back
in eagerly awaiting explanations. The waitress…. with adrenaline
pouring off her….. over enthusiastically reassured us all was well
as she refilled our coffee and bustled about her duties. The dining
room smelled of scorched grease. My eggs came out perfectly and my
toast wasn’t burnt. The meal was delicious. My stomach was in knots.
I’m old enough that it takes this body and mind a while to calm down
and recalculate.
“A great restaurant is one that just makes you feel like you’re not
sure whether you went out or you came home.” Uknown.
L. Maxine McQueen may be contacted at
maxmac.1@juno.com |
