Fancy food

We had big plans tonight. The entire family was going out to dinner. We were tired of just hearing stories about restaurants that serve food on plates instead of baskets and put cloth napkins on tables. We were gonna take the kids to see one of them fancy joints. It may not seem like much to people without children. It is a huge deal. I made sure the entire family was dressed like Jcrew models. Well, with the exception of pairing red, orange, purple and green in a single outfit. I have said it before and will again. The models in the catalog always look great, but when I mix and match odd colors I look like a circus performer. My 6-year-old asked, “Why do I have to change? My clothes aren’t even dirty?” Where we are going kid, there aren’t free refills or singing waitresses.

We loaded the family into the van and set off on the 30 minute journey the big city. We didn’t even make it down our street and my daughter’s eyes got heavy. It was 6:15 p.m. Abort mission! Abort mission! There was no way in hell we could drive a half an hour to the restaurant. She would nap and be up all night long. Lionel Richie would be singing a different tune if he had to party with a 3-year-old. Unfortunately, it’s slim pickings in my town. So, we got a table at one of the big chain restaurants. The kids colored and connected the dots on menus. Their drinks came in plastic cups with lids. This joint features a different drink and food item every night. Translation: they point it out to you. It’s not a special.

Our waitress, in her mid-twenties, was quite possibly showing signs of dementia. She forgot everything we asked for. I tried to cut her some slack. I was a waitress in college and always hated people who complained. However, the food took forever and the kids were growing impatient. I grabbed the hostess and demanded to know when we would be fed. Our meal was delivered by a manager who apologized profusely and offered us the VIP discount. He took five bucks off the total bill. VIP? That is the Lindsay Lohan discount. Jay-Z is getting s*** for free. Meanwhile, our waitress was giving her life story to customers at another table, (exact quote) “I am going to the community college and then I’m going to law school. I’m totally going to put bad guys away.” Slow down girlfriend. You can’t even remember extra salad dressing. How are you going to memorize the penal code? She returned to our table one last time, “I am like real sorry about everything. I hope I didn’t ruin your entire night.” Actually, we are devastated. We are going home to close the blinds and sob. Actually, thanks to her, we had a good laugh and left with $5 in our pocket.