My beloved husband doesn’t often suggest that we go out on a real date, but last night he surprised me. He had chosen a restaurant we’d never gone to before and I must admit that I was skeptical from the moment I heard “Black Forest” in the name. I truly didn’t know what to expect.
We pulled up to a rather tired looking building and my heart sank when I saw a sign with Black Forest Restaurant in peeling paint. I took a deep breath and decided it couldn’t be that bad.
Wayne opened the door for me and my first impression was the overpowering scent of Lysol and a front entrance in dire need of a pick-me-up. No whiffs of delectable goodies from the kitchen, and no smiling hostess to greet us. Oh dear.
We were finally ushered to a table for two in the corner, in the same section as a large group of older folks. Wait a minute. ALL the patrons in the restaurant were older folks. I suddenly felt my life passing before my eyes.
I could see by this time that Wayne knew he’d goofed on his choice of eating establishment, but we were there and we might as well stay. So, we opened our rather worn menus and my eyebrows shot up when I saw the prices handwritten in pencil beside each dish. Classy place. Half the menu advertised various schnitzel dinners, and the other half had a selection of chicken or steaks. Absolutely nothing appealed to me. But we placed our orders anyway and settled back to enjoy each others’ company.
Until the piano player arrived.
His name was Hugh – at least that’s what he announced to the crowd – and he would take requests. Great. He proceeded to set up his little electric keyboard directly in front of the table which housed the large group of older folks. Perhaps Hugh thought he’d have a ready-made audience. After he tuned up a bit, he began playing old show tunes. He was actually not bad, and I was sort of okay with the music.
Until the older folks started singing along.
I confess that I rolled my eyes at that point, and Wayne wouldn’t look at me. We hurried through our meals (which were mediocre at best) and got out of there.
When Wayne suggested that we go to DQ for blizzards, I agreed most whole-heartedly. It was the best part of the evening.
Wayne, thank you for the date – for the love and thought behind it. I loved spending the evening with you!
But next time, can we please go to The Keg??
One response to “The Date”
AT least there wasn’t an accordian player…WJ