Last night, Puppy and i went on a little dinner-date at a neighborhood restaurant that received positive reviews in a recent issue of a national magazine to which I subscribe. We sat at a little booth and ordered from our Italian-type waiter with the salt-and-pepper hair. Shortly after, a couple sat next to us - an older gentleman of Caucasian persuasion and his slightly younger Asian ladyfriend/wife. The tables were pretty close together, so it was impossible to ignore their conversation, unless you're self-absorbed like I am.
When our waiter arrived to greet the couple, the male half said that our waiter resembled, "What's his name? Uh ... Versace!"
"Oh, Versace," our waiter responded as politely as possible, "that's a new one! I usually get George Michael or..." At this point Puppy was saying that the waiter didn't resemble Versace and I was likely rolling my eyes.
When it came time to order, the couple apparently had a very difficult time figuring out what they wanted, which is fine, but Puppy let me know that they kept changing their orders and insisting that the waiter had heard incorrectly. All I know is that they took a long time during the ordering phase of the evening and they kept pronouncing "gnocchi" like "nokey," which I found incredibly irritating.
It was otherwise a fine meal (save for the part where Puppy threw it all up upon exiting the restaurant), but living in Boston sure has exposed me to a new type of neighbor.
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