Monday, June 19, 2006

AN EVENING OF ROMANCE-OR WHAT THE HELL!

Yes, it was billed a romantic evening, just the two of us. The two of us being the Little Woman and myself and the night we have been waiting for, for a long time. The night out without the kid, without distraction, without interference, with no one but us, the evening we planned.

Ha!

We choose for our anniversary evening celebration the ever popular, and ever expensive Mamma Lombardi’s, home of the magic meatball and the disappearing bank account. Our youngest son Michael now works in the pizzeria, and we decided to take him to work while we got a table for the two of us in the main restaurant.

We were told to “walk this way” by the hostess, and although my wife could, I felt self-conscious walking that way. We were seated, and immediately Sean Penn our waiter came over and introduced himself, as I didn’t know if I should shake his hand or tell him my name too. As Mr. Penn went off with our cocktail order and tell Mr. Lombardi his next vacation to Italy was seated, the Little Woman and I struggled with the menu. We haggled over the Clams Pepsi cola and the mozzarella long johns on page 13 of the appetizers when the waiter, our new and personal best friend reappeared. “Will you be having the clams Pepsi cola?” says he. The Little Woman is taken aback and says “er-no, we are ordering the cold anti pasta.” As Mr. Penn departs with the appetizer order a sudden flash occurs before my eyes.

There standing before me, is my son Michael the pizza flinger. The Little Woman’s reaction is “What?” while mine is “Why?” Never looking at me until after his statement, he informs us that his boss is sending him home because the business traffic in the pizzeria is light on Mondays, and can he sit with us until we finish so we can take him home? The Little Woman and I debate the merits of killing our prodigy there and then, verses one of us running him home. My wife flips a coin and again I lose the toss (I’ve never seen the other side of that coin she uses in 35 years) so I take him home. I return to the “Ristorante Napolitano” a little agitated (agita) and sit with the Little Woman again. “Boy that was fast!” says she. “Do you want me to go out and return again in 10 minutes?” says I “and don’t call me boy” I add.

Finally Mr. Penn returns, takes our order, relating his personal favorites, but accepting what we order anyway. He departs and I give the Little Woman her anniversary gift. She accepts it with a big surprised look on her face because of what I got her, and later in the evening tries it on. That of course makes me feel like a million dollars, but I try not to show it. Meanwhile Mr. Penn returns, and places our dishes before us, while commenting on the Little Woman’s gift. Mr. Penn the waiter just won’t go away quietly returns and asks if I’m going to finish the dish in front of me. Mr. Penn asks the Little Woman, “Do you think he will? I ask him if he would be willing to bet on it, and he demurely declines and retreats, fearing for not only his tip, but also the bill. Finally Sean Penn returns again, sees that I ask for a doggy bag and laments that he should have bet me. I respond that he would have lost no matter what he bet. He looks at the Little Woman and comments now that she is wearing the gift.

The lesson tonight is:

1) Run away from your kids.

2) Run even further away from your waiter

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