So last night, kind of last minute, John and I decided to go out to dinner somewhere. First day of work, home for the weekend, seemed like a good reason to get out. Camper was having a rough time going down, but once we had him under control, we left him cuddling with LaLa and went to go find ourselves some food.
The first place we went to was closed. As in, forever. So goodbye that wonderful establishment that made it so we didn’t have to go to Applebee’s. We UrbanSpooned another place nearby, and ended up standing in the middle of a seedy sports bar so loud that the waitress couldn’t even hear me ask if they served food. Neither one of us felt very happy about that place, so we walked across the street to another pub-type place which seemed promising until we saw the “No credit card” sign on the front door. Who carries cash anymore? Urg. We got back in the car and stopped at another restaurant that I’ve been eyeing since my parents (and I…) moved here when I was in High School. I THOUGHT it was too fancy for us, but my level of hunger was willing to pay for it. Turns out, it was a PIT. A gross one, and another bar! People getting drunk. Back in the car AGAIN, and down to a 99 Restaurant, because you can’t go wrong with something you know, right? Well, when the hostess doesn’t acknowledge your existence for the first 60 seconds you’re standing in front of her simply waiting to say “party of two,” it doesn’t bode well. When she finally looked at us we found out that it’d be a 40 minute wait, which at that point (an hour into our evening out) seemed ridiculous to me. So we went to Panera Bread.
Besides being overpriced, and having the words “anti-biotic free” on the menu every five words, it was fine. Mediocre. John wasn’t hungry by then, I was starving, and it was interesting to watch the teen fun going on around us. And by teen fun I mean TOTALLY DISTURBING TEEN BEHAVIOR. When John went to get our food, I took a gander at the table next to us, and saw that the MAYBE 15 year old girl had her hand on the…uh…PERSONAL ARA of the maybe 15 year old boy next to her under the table. She seemed to be..handling him…IN PANERA BREAD. So many things wrong with this I can’t even handle it. First of all, at that age no one should be handling ANY ONE, regardless of location. The fact that they chose a Panera Bread, sitting across the table from what I suppose to be peers, testifies to their utter inability to make choices of that nature responsibly. Where were their parents? What did they ask to go out last night? “Hey Mom, can I go get felt up with my friends?” No, seriously…did they tell their parents they had a date, or did they just say, “I’m going out with friends?” And what do you say to that? “Which friends?” “Oh you know, that girl that likes to feel me up under the table.” I doubt the critical info was shared. I had to grip my Panini a little tighter to keep myself from walking over there and saying, “What is your name? I’m calling your mother!”
After that we came home, and went to sleep. I think the BEST part of date night was cuddling with John, having some ice cream (late late secret treat!), and going to sleep by 10pm. Camper didn’t wake up til 5:30, but of course I compulsively woke up around 4 to check to see if he was breathing, go to the bathroom, and get some water. I think that my brief stint with breastfeeding ruined my ability to go through the entire night without drinking water. I almost get dehydrated if I don’t drink at least something while I should be sleeping.
So yes, it’s official. I’m old.
