But there is one thing about living here that I have never gotten used to. We eat late at home. And when we go out we like to linger. Sadly, the restaurants clear out by 10PM. On the weekends maybe you can stretch it to 10:30. And then the staff starts to get restless. In an awkward and uncomfortable sort of way. ‘Um waiter, could you not put on you coat just yet? If you hadn’t noticed, we are still dining here!’
This happens to the First Thursdays all the time. Many times we have watched as they put the chairs up on the tables around us. It drives me nuts.
Last night we reached new depths of being the last ones out. First we watched as the wait staff paraded past us carrying piles of table linens into the kitchen. I felt like it was laundry day at camp. Something tells me that the Culinary Institute does not teach this as part of their curriculum on customer relations.
Then, the valet parking guy came in and starting handing out keys. I am not sure if this has every happened before, but it was surely not all that endearing.
I have good friends who are chefs. I don’t remember this every going on in their restaurants. Even the suburban ones. Jeff, you never did this, did you?
What next, are they going to shut the lights? Come to think of it, they might have turned off the AC around 10.
Then again, at a table of menopausal women after a few bottles of wine, it was hard to tell.