The Narrative of Kurt & Becky

Today I did some stuff. Spectacular.

After work, I got home and Becky and I had forgotten to take out our Dream Dinner out of the freezer. We didn’t want to sit around and wait for it to thaw, so we went out. There was this place that I had seen on my way home that I wanted to try, so I suggested it, and we went.

Becky and I piled into the car and we were off to Le Petit Paris (that roughly translates as ‘The Petit Paris’). First of all, we parked (good place to start) and couldn’t find the entrance. We walked around the entire building and found that we had parked on the complete opposite side of the building. As we walk up we notice a young gentleman of about 27 years wearing a suit and talking on a mobile phone while he was lounging on a bench directly outside the main entrance. As he noticed us, he quickly ended his call and said, “bonsoir!” which sounded more like “bonswah!” and means more like, “good evening!”

So, we’re thinking: ooo, Frenchy! Then he babbled something that I didn’t catch and was not entirely sure it was in English (later Becky informed me that he told us that he was on the phone with another Frenchman, and they all get together on Tursdays), and showed us to our table. The decor was tasteful, the seat was comfortable, and the company was impeccable (I don’t think they provide Becky’s for everyone though). One thing we did notice, was that we were not handed any menus.

This one actually does continue…

Our waiter came and for our drink orders, at which time Becky gave me that look as if to mean “Are we ordering alcohol?”, in reply I gave her that look to mean, “Well, it is Thursday, and there are many other fine beverages that we could enjoy, but on this occasion I don’t see why there could be any reason as to refrain from enjoying some libations here in this fine establishment.” Becky got a Margarita, I got a scotch.

Still no menus.

From where Becky was seated she could see the bar, and watched our drinks being promptly made. She then viewed our drinks being promptly ignored by the serving staff. About 10 or 15 minutes later, Frenchy in the suit comes by and apologizes and asks for our identification (actually he said, “I’m sorry, are you over twenty-one?”). He checks both of ours, gives them back, then looks at us strangely, makes a crossing motion with his hands like a switch between Becky and I, then says “Oh, I’m sorry, it’s just that you [Becky] are ’79 and you [myself] are ’81. Should it be the other way around, no?” That comment was followed by uncomfortable laughter on all our parts.

Our drinks came, still no menus. At this point, I was confused. I thought this whole time that they were just waiting until our drinks came to give us the menus, like they were pacing us or something. A little while later, our menus came and the waiter made a point to show the wine list, to which I chuckled (silently, to myself) because I was, at that very moment, sipping my scotch.

I ordered: ‘Filet Mignon à Petit Paris’ which means: ‘The Filet Mignon de Petit Paris’ which was: bite size chunks of filet and a leaning tower of mashed potatoes, which tasted: delicious. I also got ‘Champagne Salade’ which had fennel, which made me apprehensive, but it was also delicious.

Becky ordered: ‘Les Crêpes aux Poulet et Champignons’ which means” ‘The Crêpes aux Poulet et Champignons’ which was: a chicken and mushroom crepe, which was: delicious.

After our delicious meal, Frenchy came back and described with intricate detail, and hand motions, their dessert specials. We got one, I don’t remember what it was called, but it apple, caramel, ice cream, and a pastry. It was delicious.

As we left, we got the bonswah again.

This entry was posted on Thursday, June 30th, 2005 at 23:02 and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.