A relaxing night out to eat...

Remember when eating out was a relaxing experience?
Someone else cooked for you, served you and cleaned
up after you. All you had to do was chew, swallow and
pay. No longer, though. Today, you feel like a laboratory
rat who has to struggle through a maze every time it
wants a chunk of cheese.
Example ... for your entertainment and education ...
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"Good evening," the maitre d' said. "Table for four?"

"Yes, Thank you."

"Smoking or non?"

"Non smoking."

"Would you prefer to dine indoors or outdoors this
evening?"

"I guess indoors would be good."

"Very well, sir," he said. "Would you like to be seated
in the main dining room, the enclosed patio, or our
lovely solarium?"

"Uh, let me see ... uh ... "

"I can give you a table with a lovely view in our lovely
solarium."

"I think the solarium would be lovely," I said.

We followed him there.

"Now, would you prefer a view overlooking the golf course, the sunset on the lake or the majestic mountains to the West?"

"Whatever you recommend," I said.

Let HIM make a decision for a change, I thought.

He sat us by a window facing the golf course, lake or
mountains. I couldn't tell which because it was dark
outside.

Then, a young man, better dressed and better
looking than any of us, presented himself at our table.

"Good evening, my name is Paul, and I'll be your waiter
this evening. Would you like a few minutes before I take
your order?"

"No," I said. "I'm just a meat-and-potatoes guy, so I'll
have the filet mignon and a baked potato."

"Soup, or salad?"

"Salad."

"We have a mixed-green salad, hearts of palm, or a
very fine endive salad with baby shrimp."

"Just a mixed-green salad, OK?"

"Whatever you say, sir. Dressing?"

I didn't want to make another decision.

"Whatever you've got will be fine."

"We have Creamy Italian, Blue Cheese, Vinaigrette,
Thousand Island, Honey Dijon, and Ranch."

"Just bring me one. Surprise me."

"Creamy Italian is our house specialty. Would that be
all right, sir?"

"Yeah."

I was curt. I was done with civility.

"And for your baked potato?"

I knew what was coming!

"I just want the baked potato dry, you understand?
I don't want anything on it."

"No butter? No sour cream?"

"No."

"No chives? No bacon chips?"

"No! Don't you understand English? I don't want
anything on it. Just bring me a baked potato and
a steak."

"Would you prefer the 6, 8, or 12-ounce steak, sir?"

"Whatever."

"Would you like that rare, medium rare, medium,
medium well, or well done? Or, if you prefer, we can
butterfly it for you."

"Pauly Boy," I said, "you are really starting to get me
steamed."

"Which brings up the vegetables, sir. Would you like
steamed broccoli, creamed corn, sauteed zucchini,
or diced carrots?"

That did it. I threw my napkin to the floor, stood up,
put my face right in his arrogant kisser and said,
"How'd you like to settle this outside?"

"Fine with me, sir. Would you prefer the parking lot,
the side alley or the street in front of the restaurant?"

"I prefer right here."

Then I sucker-punched him. He ducked, then
countered with a left hook right under my eye. It
was the first time all night he hadn't offered me a
selection.

I collapsed semiconscious into my chair, as someone in
authority rushed over and berated Pauly.

I felt my tie being loosened, my collar unbuttoned,
hands slapping my face.

When I regained my senses, I saw the very concerned
maitre d' right in front of my nose.

He apologized and offered to buy me a drink, call the
paramedics, whatever I wanted.

"No, no," I said. "I'll be all right. Just bring me a glass
of water."

"Yes, sir, right away," he said. "Would you prefer
imported mineral water, sparkling water, or club
soda with a wedge of lime?"

:iceslolan

That is so bloody true mate!!!!!:bigthumb:

:lol: Right on the money :iceslolan