When rednecks dine out.
July 20th 2010 05:44
So last weekend the hubby and I decided to not only go on a date, but to go to a really nice restaurant we’ve wanted to try.
What I didn’t realize is that when you are surrounded by kids, snot, toys, cartoons and nappies all day, real life and people can be a bit daunting. Upon walking into the restaurant I had the overwhelming feeling that people were going to realize I was a fake who normally got around in her pyjama pants all day and was lucky to sit long enough to have a meal, let alone know which fork to use.
But we were soon seated at our table and picked up what we thought was the menu. My husband proceeded to ask the waitress what types of wines they had available while we blankly peered down our noses at the menu pretending that we did this all the time.
The waitress very politely informed us that we were in fact holding the wine list and said she would be back in a minute for our selection. We both had a giggle and decided that we had better drop the front and just order a beer.
After receiving our beer, which she poured for us into a glass – ooh la la, tres chic – we began to peruse the menu to see what appetizers sounded good. We settled on the bruschetta – a personal favourite of mine – and when it arrived the waitress asked if we would like some fresh pepper over the top. Of course, we said, doesn’t everyone?
So as the waitress began to grind the pepper she said, “Say when” which I did, not a moment later, to which she paused and looked at me as if I had broken some sort of a rule. I was not good at this.
But we ordered our meals – two good, middle of the expense road dishes – and tried to forget that there were two butter knives on the table, only one of which we knew what to do with. All in all it was a fabulous time, albeit a bit of a learning curve, but I think next time we’ll just hit Le McDonald's.
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