Steve already posted about this event in his blog. But I figured I better give a different perspective on the same event. It’s kind of like having the gospels: same event, different eyes.
Now that I’ve compared my blog to the gospels, lets continue. We were kickin’ back at the apartment with Steve and Tony, and we were trying to figure out where to get our eat on. I was fine with Chili’s or even Fatburger. Steve wanted Rusty Pelican, which I had no problems with, so we went there.
At Rusty Pelican, I figured it was going to be the seafood version of Bobby McGee’s, and in that case, I was already trying to decide between the Ariel or King Triton Section. However, we figured out quite quickly that when they actually have place settings set out, the meals are already 20% higher and that this isn’t Bobby McGee’s. Bobby McGee’s, by the way, I will never eat at again: the founder’s name is actually Bob Sikora.
Back to RP: I figured we could be cool about the whole event, look at the prices, and then say, “Oh, I forgot I’m allergic to seafood” and then coolly walk out the door. No harm done. Well, Steve destroyed any chances of a smooth exit when he said, “Holy crap they have place settings!” to which the keen ear of the host picked up on. I think he scoped three college kids with about as much class as money. Anyway, I walked up to see the menu, figuring we were outclassed, then he pulled up a discount menu to further grind in the shame: “If you’re not going to eat here, let me make you look like ace clowns.” We had an impromptu meeting in front of the host station and adjourned hastily with the decision: yes, we will dine at your fine food establishment. Though, it was really against good logic.
Anyway, as we walked to the booth, I turned around and laughed at Steve, “You are wearing shorts.” I turned to Tony and laughed even harder. “You don’t have sleeves!” Good times. Then, our waitress put our napkins on our laps for us. Going over the evening special, she made sure to apologize, in a tone as if she’d just backed over my dog, “I’m so sorry, but tonight, we are all out of shark.” Man, I about got up and left then. Luckily, they had swordfish with cucumber dill salsa dressing or something on it. Apparently, swordfish is like shark only firmer, but I wasn’t really paying attention. I was frantically scanning the menu for “Cheeseburger? No. Hotdogs? No. Meals under $10? Possible.”
I went for the prime rib, which by the way, was the best prime rib I have ever eaten in my life. All the while, the free bread flowed like milk and honey, and I’m sure with every loaf, she estimated her tip to be 1% less. “Cheapskate college kids, why didn’t the bouncer screen them.” Actually, we tipped the expected. In fact, we went above and beyond: 16%. I’m sure she’s counting the extra change tonight.
Well, it was a big fish-out-of-water experience (no, that isn’t a pun) for us, but we managed to walk out with some dignity. I ate my rainbow sherbet with the proper spoons, said ‘thank you’ with every fruit tea refill, and asked for more free bread by saying ‘please.’ Quite dignified, but there really is nothin’ prouder than walkin’ out with a napkin still on your pants, eh Steve?