A night out by ourselves in the city, once again proving that Grandmas are the difference between, “Grammy stayed the night and we got to make cookies!!! “, and a call from Child Protective Services about that silly, “Don’t leave your kids home alone” law….
Anyway, we had made reservations at one of our favorite restaurants, and I had known for days what I was ordering. Their satay bar is amazing, we have that, wine keeps coming, and all is well.
But Mike wasn’t so into the satay, and the waiter was really upselling the bass, I mean, he was really pushing it. Like he had a quota to fill or something. I’d ask about something and he’d say, “Well, yes, that is lovely too, but the bass, THAT is really amazing.” I finally gave in and ordered the bass, mostly because my wine glass was empty and I really needed the waiter to focus on something else.
“I don’t even really like bass”, I told Mike after our waiter left, “Why did I cave like that?”
“I’m sure you will like it.”
“Isn’t Sea Bass endangered? Now I get guilt with my dinner.”
“Settle down, it’s already dead and in the restaurant, it’s not like he is going fishing for it now.”
“He was probably pushing it because everybody else knows it’s endangered, so it’s getting old sitting in the cooler. Therefore, I’ll get bad fish poisoning AND I’ll get attacked by protesters on the way out, I’ll probably get spray-painted.”
“Spray-painted? Are you planning on wearing the fish skin out of the restaurant?”
…Sometimes these conversations get a little carried away…
We had a good dinner, and the wine kept flowing, and we only briefly commented on the fire truck that pulled up outside.
It wasn’t until we were finishing up our dinner that we noticed the medics towards the back of the restaurant and saw a man lying on the floor. I diverted my eyes quickly; I always try not to stare, I certainly wouldn’t want lookie lous peering over me if I was the unfortunate one on the floor, (I’m fairly certain that would not be my best look).
As they carried the patron turned patient to the awaiting ambulance, he looked alert, and there was not an excessive amount of yelling or rushing, so, thankfully, it seemed he was okay. Must have been a heart attack scare? Or he choked on some spicy shrimp? Or maybe he just tripped on the way back from the men’s room, either way, it would certainly suck to end an evening that way.
There was a small back up of concerned looking people waiting at the coat check as we left and somebody said, “Wow, that was scary, I hope he is ok.”
And then the hostess offered up….”Yeah, there was a little accident at the satay bar, but everyone is going to be fine.”.
What kind of “accident” do you have at the satay bar!? And is that really information you want to pass on to restaurant patrons? I’m thinking that you want to remain vague and let me go ahead and think that the poor guy was feeling short of breath, because now my imagination is going crazy! Was he sliced? Burned? Skewered?
Was it an accident, or do you have an easily angered satay chef? Did they guy want five shrimp instead of four and end up on the wrong end of an exceptionally sharp bamboo stick?
And how in the world was “a little accident at the satay bar” serious enough to require being carried out on a stretcher accompanied by a half dozen EMT’s and fire fighters? I’ve had a number of small burns and cuts in my time, and even on occasion met the wrong end of a sharp stick (usually due to my insistence on wearing flip flops while doing yard work), but never before have any of those been serious enough to warrant a call to 911 (knock on wood).
Is that why our waiter was pushing the sea bass? Was he taking pity on me because I looked like someone who would infuriate the satay chef? And that being the case my chances were better with slightly past its prime endangered fish?
Honestly, I really hope the guy is 100% okay, because it was really, really inappropriate of me to be giggling on my way out the door.
Great story! Good writing.
Thank you, I still love that place, maybe it’s time to try it again 🙂