Dining in Hell
I have such high expectations. Unnaturally so, you might say. Take last night, for example, and what was supposed to be a simple meal out with my husband. We even decided to try someplace new that was highly recommended by friends of ours.
When we arrived, we took the last available parking spot and walked up to the door. There was one of those sandwich boards on the sidewalk proclaiming the specials. We perused them and then walked inside. Despite the fact that all of the diners were clearly mid-meal (all three tables), it took the waitress five minutes to seat us (she even had the audacity to seem peeved that she was running out of tables for two). When we finally had a table of our own, she informed us that they were completely out of the specials (at 7:00 pm, no less). No petite filets, no fried chicken, etc. She left us with our menus.
The menus were incredibly difficult to read. They were so busy, had so many different fonts, that it took us an incredibly long time to figure out that the menu wasn't all that extensive. The waitress came back and took our drink order: a Coke and a Korbel & Coke. Five seconds later she was back to inform us that they had run out of Coke products - would Pepsi be okay? I'm at a simmer now, as you might imagine.
Finally she comes back and we try to order. However, Prince Charming's first choice FROM THE MENU was also "all gone." So I ordered an appetizer, a club sandwich and he had the shrimp. His dinner came with soup or salad, but he asked if he could get cottage cheese or coleslaw instead. "Ordinarily yes, but we're fresh out of both. How about some cheesy broccoli instead?" I believe it was at this point that that old Monty Python skit about the cheese shop entered my mind.
"No cheddar? But it's the single most popular cheese in the world!"
"Not around here sir."
...
"This is in fact a cheese shop?"
"Finest in the district!"
"Well, it is certainly uncontaminated by cheese!"
...
"Do you, in fact, have any cheese whatsoever (he asked knowing the answer)?"
"Ah...no sir. I've been deliberately wasting your time."
"Ah'm sorry, but I'm going to have to shoot you."
POP!
This kept running through my mind, faster and faster as more incidents kept occuring.
Back to our story...
As we all know, I am pregnant with Prince Charming's heir. What you may not know is, that when you are pregnant, and hungry, you really don't have the ability to wait to eat. The hunger comes upon you and the only way to describe it is you are suddenly ravenous. You feel that waiting will lead to violence. The best way for me to describe it is, last night I was so hungry I was tempted to tear the waitress's arm off and beat her with it. So, I wasn't in the mood to wait, and since I could reasonably surmise that no bread would be coming to the table (they were probably all out) , I ordered the appetizer, figuring it would hold me until the meal arrived.
But, my plan failed. 30 minutes later, our appetizer still hadn't arrived. I tried desperately to flag down our waitress to ask her about it, but she was busy clearing a table. Finally I got her attention and asked when I could expect the appetizer.
"Oh. Yeah. You had the Mozz Sticks, right?"
I nodded my head, wondering if we had entered the restaurant where diners go to die of starvation. Baby want food. Baby want food now, or we throw up.
"I'll look into that for you." She came back about 10 minutes later and informed us that our appetizers would be next in line. (Were they cooking it over a bunsen burner, or what?)
My mozzarella sticks came out and I inhaled half of them. That seemed to effectively counter my brewing violence...until the next couple came in looking for a meal. At this time, the waitress gave them the lengthy spiel about all of the items that were unavailable, which now included the shrimp (my prince had gotten the last) and the ribeye steak. So basically, you can order a pizza or a burger.
They got up and left. They escaped!
About 30 minutes later, our meals arrived. I wish I could tell you that it was worth the wait, but sadly this was not the case. The shrimp was blah and my club lacked flavor. The tomato was mealy and my pickle was hot and limp, not cool and crisp. The entire meal was a colossal waste of time. I'm actually pissed that I had to pay for it. Moreover, because our waitress was so harried, she had us pay at the kiosk instead of bringing the bill to the table. This meant that I couldn't make my displeasure known with the tip - oh no! She was standing there watching my every move. And commenting.
I couldn't get out of there fast enough. We will never go back. For heaven's sake - it took us 2 hours to eat! 2 hours to eat crap!
So, to my long list of things that I've survived, I can now add 'dining in hell.'
