(Please forgive me for unloading these “had to be there” stories.. I’m putting them here partially to remember, myself..)
When I travel for shows, I try as much as possible to avoid fast food. I’ve turned into a steamed-vegetable-fruit-and-nut-ivore. It’s good to feel light in this hot, hot weather. I digress. While I was in Colorado, I ate at some pretty awesome restaurants: himalayan, indian, thai, vegetarian, italian, mexican (I’d travel the globe just to eat, seriously).. Although most dinners or lunches or what-have-you were fairly uneventful (and on the other hand, one or two, memorable as ever..), I came away with some laughs at some others. I was eating at a himalayan restaurant in Estes Park, and this couple, who I was basically sharing a table with (it was VERY crowded & busy and there were lots of folks complaining about their wait…. I say, be patient, ye! The food cometh.. Nothing good comes fast), were really dissecting the menu, deciding over and over what they were going to order. When the Nepalese waiter, who was in a rush, came over to take their order, the woman basically sequestered him with questions about Nepal, how to pronounce and write words in Nepalese, what material his clothes were made of, etc. (She was going to travel to Nepal in the fall, and subsequently began asking me about my own clothing because, coincidentally, I was wearing a shirt made in Nepal). Her husband began ordering his food, out of seeming frustration of her interrogation, and she broke in with more questions, and it turned into this battle of who-can-talk-the-loudest. The waiter was very kind and fielded it all. (I chuckled inside when the husband asked the wife to shut-up already..).
Second story: I picked up my mom at the Denver airport and headed to Boulder for my final show where we were greeted with possibly the most awful hotel room I’ve ever stayed in. Picture this: brass bed frames (like those kind I had on my daybed in the 80s), bad wood panel walls, swinger lamps, bed canopies, red carpet. I’m not exactly sure how I got into that mess (thanks hotels.com), but I did. So, to redeem ourselves, we hit up this fancy-shmancy Italian restaurant down the road for hors d’oeuvres and ended up having us a five-star meal (she had king crab legs, I had the house salad and a few Bombay Sapphires –had to drown out those brass bed frames).. Since we were sitting close to the front doors, which were open, it might be expected to have to shoo away a few flies. They’re annoying for sure, but hey man.. you know, we all inhabit this place and we’re all driven toward finding happiness, right? This couple (err, the husband) at the table next to us could not contain their frustration, and I could not contain my giggling, constantly turning away so that they wouldn’t see me. The man was really getting sick of this one fly that kept buzzing around, and I heard him complain about it a couple times to the waitress who kindly apologized but said she couldn’t help it with the doors open (which were letting in a pleasant breeze). So, he promptly started feverishly chopping away at the fly (in the air and on the table) with his knife while his wife begged him to quit. I’m pretty sure he didn’t actually hit the fly, but he did knock a dish or two on the floor. Disastrous! But really, perhaps you had to be there.. til next time.