"Hello, my name is Lauren and I'll be your server today." Little did Lauren know that, when she said server, she meant babysitter. "It was pretty remarkable," Savannah admitted later, "I thought you could handle your liqueur better than that. Remember when you did JagerBomb shots with one of my kindergarten teachers? You out-drank every elementary teacher at that party." Thanks, Savannah. That was a proud moment for me as well."I'd like to start out by suggesting our jumbo margarita special," Lauren smiled helpfully. Oh Lauren. Didn't she know? She had me at margarita. But still...I was cautious. "How big is jumbo?" I asked, "Show me with your hands." Lauren cupped her palms so as to lovingly nestle a baby sparrow. "Jumbo is really just a state of mind," she said cryptically. She returned minutes later with ten gallon aquarium capacity glasses that could easily serve as emperor penguin pools.
No matter. I was on vacation. Famous last words. Actually...I don't remember ANY words beyond this juncture but my daughters have more than happily filled in the gaps. As always, making any sort of choice causes me great consternation. Apparently the addition of alcohol does not improve this scenario. As I agonized between two entries, Lauren threw caution (and the menu) to the wind and helped me invent a whole new meal so that I ended up with both tempura-fried avocado AND bacon-wrapped scallops. I saluted dinner's arrival by throwing all my cutlery onto the floor. "Interesting custom," Lauren noted, winking, slipping me additional silverware before my first fork stopped skittering, "I know some Greeks throw plates. What nationality are you?" "Inebriated," Savannah muttered, attempting to pour my remaining beverage into Sydney's glass. I sloppily retrieved my burgled beverage ("Better on the table than her drinking it," Sydney deduced as she dodged the river running toward her. Lauren again appeared and magically, with a wave of her washcloth, made the torrent of tequila disappear. "Ready for another one?" she asked. Both of my girls yelled, "No!"
By this time, I had confiscated Sydney's soup and immediately alerted management that it was not sufficiently named on the menu. "This is clearly Inverted Lobster Bisque," I told Lauren as well as the girl who saved me from getting burned on my plate of tempura-fried avocado and bacon-wrapped scallops, the restaurant manager ("That wasn't the manager," Sydney corrected, "that was a guy on his way to the restrooms."), AND the chef ("Nope..." Savannah clarified, "just a patron on his way to pay the bill."). I texted my friend Sarah. Called my husband. And made an all-restaurant announcement about how this was the BEST lobster bisque I had ever eaten...and I've been to BOSTON ("Is that accurate?" I asked my girls. They both nodded sadly.). After I ate all of Sydney's soup, I spent the remainder of my time apologizing for my daughters's childhoods and exclaiming over the nifty propeller decorations adorning the restaurant walls. "Those are light fixtures," Savannah explained. It was time to go. Lauren and I shared an emotional embrace. Savannah tugged me toward the door like I was a reluctant red balloon. Sydney raced ahead to the car while I happily discovered I was the same size as the palm trees lining the sidewalk. A man walking by congratulated me. The girls stuffed me into Syd's car and carefully drove home, trying not to jostle me. Apparently I then fulfilled my week-long wish of acquiring the apartment complex's lobby copy of The San Diego Reader which sported the story of "Who Killed the Giant Squirrel of the Cuyamacas?" Blurrily, I picked the magazine up off the floor the next day. "So...who killed the squirrel?" I asked. "Don't asked us," Sydney told me, "You took it." "Well...at least that's the ONLY thing I stole," I said, looking on the bright side. "About that..." Sydney sighed, waving a restaurant spoon at me. "Just a little memento of our fun evening together," I said. "Let Mom keep it," Savannah suggested, "since she can't remember anything from the lobster bisque on." "Oh...I REMEMBER the lobster bisque," I protested, "That was the BEST lobster bisque I have ever eaten...and I've been to BOSTON!"
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