How the Other Half Lives

A few months ago, Brian was at Home Depot and a radio station was broadcasting from the site. He threw his name into a raffle and a few hours later he drove back to Home Depot to collect a $100 gift card to Donovan's Steak and Chop House that he had won. Since his mom was here visiting last week and willing to babysit, he and I went out for a fancy steak dinner. And that is something that we usually do not do.

What else don't we usually do? Well I probably sound like a hillbilly when I say I've never used valet parking. It's true; I've never handed over my keys to a stranger so he could go park my car. It just feels so silly. And in this case, it was our 1997 Honda Accord. Good grief. That felt really silly. They were very kind and opened my door for me, but I couldn't help but giggle inside because it was so ridiculous.

Once we were inside, it only got more humorous. Our reservation was in ten minutes so they had us sit at the bar. No, nothing yet. Thank you. As we sat there, I noticed the wine lockers along the wall with last names or law firms or investment firms engraved on the nameplates. Classy. When our table was ready, the hostess walked us to our table, making sure to provide me with a play by play of the turns we would make along the way. We'll go straight through here. We'll turn left up here. We're making a right here. Here's your table. Does it suit you? Uh yeah. Sure. Looks great! Oh what the heck. I played along with, "Of course. Thank you."

We made our wine and beer and dinner selections pretty quickly as the menu is not grand. Of course, that didn't stop the maitre d' from reading the entire menu to us a few moments later. After patiently listening to his insipid humor delivered in a French accent, "au gratin is French for au gratin," and politely smiling at "smashed potatoes is similar to mashed potatoes but it has an S," he left us to ponder the menu one last time before coming back to collect our order. He was charming, but charming turned to trite after I heard him repeating that same spiel to another table. Also, I have my doubts that he's French. 

About forty minutes later (not a bother, we were in no hurry) Brian and I had a delicious, rich, and very filling meal that we enjoyed together in a quiet, dimly lit restaurant with tasteful decor. It was very pleasant even though we also enjoyed it with the four members of the table across from us who were drinking several bottles of wine, cocktails, and then finally coffee cocktails. They were clearly living it up and having a fun Saturday night on a Monday, so we quietly observed and chuckled. They were like the entertainment.

We declined dessert, settled our bill, and then waited for our car. "Did you tell him to be careful with it?" I asked Brian as we stood by a new Mercedes and then watched an Audi drive up. The valet opened my squeaky door for me (thank goodness we didn't have another couple with us because the rear doors are even louder!), and we headed for home.

We are not the kind of people who are used to such pampering, and we felt almost guilty for being taken care of so well. We certainly don't expect to be treated that way all the time. Well, I guess if we're paying for it, okay then yes; they should be overly polite and helpful. But I think I'll stick to the casual and comfortable restaurants we normally patronize. For one, comfortable trumps swanky. Second, I'd like to go out to dinner more than once a year.