Sarah is NOT just another brick in the wall

Worried that Sarah's son Will might grow up only
knowing the theme song to Dog Patrol, I bought him
a Pink Floyd t-shirt.

I've said it before, but eating out with my friend Sarah is a futile exercise in patience and self-restraint. Meg Ryan in When Harry Met Sally has NOTHING on Sarah when it comes to being particularly concise when she orders. I tip the waitress BEFORE the food comes to try and lower the risk of contaminants. It's not just dressing to the side. Oh no...

• meat shaved not sliced, 
• onions chopped, not diced, 
• fondue fork dipped once, not twice

Okay...I might be exaggerating (a little). But one thing is for sure, it is never boring when we go out to eat. 

The last time we went out, our waitress approached, sporting a trendy little tee which read, "How can you have any pudding if you don't eat your meat?" I laughed. "Great shirt," I complimented. Sarah furrowed her brow. She is an awesome brow furrow-er. "I don't get it," she admitted. I'm a little embarrassed that I dog-piled on her because, after all, this is a girl who can bust a rhyme to the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air at the drop of a cocked-to-the-side baseball cap. But still...

The waitress and I stared at Sarah...stunned. "You HAVE to know this," I told her. Back in my day, every composition notebook cover was transformed into brick walls because of this band. Oh. Maybe it was a generational gap problem. But no...my very cool waitress with semi-appropriate tattoos and questionably-placed piercings knew it. "I'll give you a hint," I prompted, "maybe the pressure of ordering a meal custom-designed to your very specific needs momentarily pushed out more important information like 1980's rock band recognition." Her expression evolved from furrow to frown. "Okay..." I encouraged, "Here goes. Finish this line: We're just two lost souls..." The waitress and I waited. Seconds ticked painfully by. "In need of Jesus?" Sarah offered. I sighed, turning to the waitress. "We're just two lost souls," I sang. "Swimming in a fish bowl," she sang back. "Year after year," we harmonized together while the restaurant broke into spontaneous applause and Sarah asked if she could place her order, please. "Half of that was right," Sarah said, editing my blog.

Mid-way through Sarah's made-to-order meal, she was struck with a revelation. "Is Pink Floyd the band with the rainbow going through a triangle?" "No," I said with exasperation at this ridiculous notion, "You're thinking of Led Zeppelin." Obviously, I was the expert here so she let the matter drop until she excused herself to go powder her nose. She was back in an instant and dragging me from my chair. "You have to see this," she crowed victoriously. Yup. There in the dim hallway leading to the restrooms was a Pink Floyd reproduction cover featuring a rainbow going through a triangle. "Where is that waitress," Sarah grumbled, taking a lap of the restaurant so she could show her too. "Your quality of always having to be right is NOT attractive," I told her when we returned to our seats. "You should really work on that." "Maybe you could offer lessons," she smiled, ordering us dessert. "Two spoons, please. And whipped cream to the side."