Dec 08 2001
Bummer
So we had a new waiter at our favorite little hole in the wall restaurant last night (though our usual guy stopped by to say hello & make sure everything was up to the usual high standard), and I’m pretty sure I’d be a happier girl today if we’d had the usual guy.
Practically no-one can finish all the food you get there at one sitting. Brian had some pizza and the specialty of the house bread to eat on the plane, thereby making sure his trip home, though late at night and into the early hours of the morning, was much better than anyone else’s on that plane. Rufus had calzone for a late night snack. I had chicken fettucine Alfredo, or so I thought (sometime, I’ll tell you about the origins of Fettucine Alfredo. It’s a charming story), which I was planning to have for lunch today. I confidently opened the container, only to faced with wilted salad, complete with dressing, which enhanced its depressed demeanor, and which oddly included what appeared to be salami.
This begs a couple of questions. Why would you get a doggy bag for salad, which notoriously does not age well and is about the last thing one would wish to have in the way of leftovers? And who has my fettucine?
Damn.
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