time out

 

“Some people ask the secret of our long marriage. We take time to go to a restaurant two times a week. A little candlelight, dinner, soft music and dancing.  She goes Tuesdays, I go Fridays.”   ~Henry Youngman


We dined at a classy sixties decor restaurant that caters to a private airfield in town.  The atmosphere is inviting and the food mouthwatering.  One side of the restaurant has large windows for patrons to watch the corporate and private jets take-off and land.  At nighttime, it’s even more exciting with the glaring outline of the city buildings against the charcoal sky.  My husband and I were celebrating his birthday, and also our anniversary which was in the previous month.  Since we were killing the proverbial two birds with one stone, we decided to order the whole enchilada, so to speak.  We selected an appetizer, salad, and entree with no regard to cost, not to forget the wine and the eventual dessert menu.  Seated at a small table toward the rear of the room, we were delighted with the view of the air strip and our privacy while engaging in lively conversation.  The waiter with excellent customer service skills had only served the required items, so far.  As the two of us munched and chatted, we noticed a small group of people gathering.  The lot was standing directly in front of our table.  We figured they would be seated soon, but we became increasingly disappointed that more people arrived and splinter groups were beginning to form around our table.  It became apparent that this was an office Christmas party, and no one was going to take the lead to seat him/herself.  No doubt they were waiting for the head honcho in order to vie for a place next to him/her.  Now if it wasn’t enough to over hear their conversations on HDL versus LDL while our view of the cityscape was blocked, the waiter had to hover to let us know “people” were there and how sorry he was for this occurring.  As if it made us feel better, he would return to chat and ask pointless questions while our mouths were full.  I suggested to my husband not to make eye contact and, if necessary, pretend to chew, so the waiter would return to his station.  The two of us seriously contemplated  helping ourselves to the office party’s hors d’oeuvres to get even, but we contained ourselves and left without any altercation.  Nevertheless, it was time out on the town well appreciated.