For our slamiversary this year we booked a table at a very nice, very intimate, very award-winning restaurant in the inner west of Brisbane. We got spruced up (I even wore a dress) because it was a special occasion and we don’t do things like this often.
The restaurant was essentially just two little rooms and the wait staff were particularly attentive so we were ‘on’ the whole time. No slouching, no burping, no scratching. I sat with my back to the wall and could see the wait staff most of the time. From their vantage point in the middle of the building, they could see into the kitchen and the main dining areas so you only had to glance in their direction for one of them to swoop down to ask if there was anything we needed.
Our waiter asked if we wanted anything from the bar. Burfit had (correctly, I suspect) anticipated that ordering Coke might be frowned upon, so I took a stab in the dark and ordered us both a glass of wine. I’m pretty sure at this point our body language screamed IMPOSTERS, but we carried on. We ordered our meals and a side of buttered green beans to share (best. beans. ever.) and were left to our wine and stilted conversation. I felt our conversation – which was mostly witty observations about our current predicament – really ought to have focused on classic literature or art. I told Burfit as much and then remembered a recent post from Mojo Hannah so I told Burfit about that.
All this is to say, I felt extremely awkward. But I should point out that it wasn’t an unpleasant experience. No one was nasty to us, quite the contrary in fact. But it did highlight the fact that I’m much more comfortable at home in my slippers than I am almost anywhere else.
Our meals were superb. Really, very good indeed. We passed on dessert because we knew we had strawberries and Nutella waiting for us at home. When we got to the car we burst into giggles, like we’d gotten away with something. I imagine after we left the staff murmured to each other their observations about what an odd couple we were.
I’d like to go back there with someone who knows how to be a grown up in a restaurant such as this one (Lindy? Trevor?).