Some things are just not meant to be. Clearly, my enjoyment of tapas in a fine dining establishment is just not meant to be. Somehow I have managed to go to a restaurant not once but twice this month with the intention of ordering tapas, but my good culinary intentions led me down the path of ravenousness once again and wishing I would have filled my tummy before I went to a local lounge. Same old story. I was late to the moms’ night out event, and it didn’t occur to me to ask for a food menu because I had no hungry screaming children with me.
Or, perhaps I forgot to order because I was too focused on making comparisons between the false advertising and the reality of the lounge. “A darkly burning enclave with walls nearly a century old that hold the memories and merriment of travelers and the surrounding neighborhood alike” was in actuality a small, damp, cold basement with some nice leather furniture and a bunch of candles.” If they did indeed have “unforgettable fare,” the waiter forgot about it since I was never given a food menu. Although my company was delightful and the jazz music was lovely, the only “continuation of yesteryear” occurred when the frail old people, who slowly sipped their gin and tonics, continued to breathe.
Overall, I failed to experience the “evening of revelry” that was promised in lounge’s online advertisements. Some people are just too square for a night life, and I am one of those people. Socialization is highly overrated; I am going back to eating dinner out with my husband and kids. I never forget to order at Red Robin where I can get bottomless fries—now that’s some revelry.
