Pre-ramle
Walked the nearly deserted beach for a couple of hours watching small birds run in and out of the surf. Saw birds raiding people’s food. Saw sneakers in the sand with a note saying that the owner would be back later. Saw some surfers trying to make the most of the hurricane leftovers. Saw the girlfriend’s aunts. Ate a super-dry Italian sub that they failed to put oil on. Came home and called Sweden, Oregon, and Quincy. Sat about. Went out to see a sunset that was long gone, Put on Mystical, and ended up in the beach parking lot unsure of what to do. Saw a bunch of interesting people walking by including an old guy wearing black pants, a black sleeveless T shirt, sideburns and a Pompadour hairpiece. Put on some music to get the girlfriend going. Declined the suggestion of doing the local thing and eating at Schooner’s. Headed to Hingham harbor only to be faced with an hour and a half wait. Had the feeling that like every other local non-biker in Hull, we would end up eating at Schooner’s. Decided to try the Liberty Grill next to Stars in Hingham harbor. Made a bad dinner choice…

Chapter I: The liberty Grill
Let me give the reader the executive Summary: I wouldn’t take a dump in the Liberty Grill, for fear that they might collect it from the toilet, fry it, and serve it, thus improving their food by 200%. And the service is among the worst that I have encountered.

We went in and happily found that there was only a five minute wait, and were told to sit at the bar until we were called. Upon sitting down, we realized that we had each had a maximum of $3, we ran next door to hit the ATM. Upon returning, we sat at the bar, which could hold no more than six people, without getting a little too cozy. The restaurant has low ceilings and seating upstairs, giving it the impression that it was once someone’s house. In a way it reminds me of Percy’s Place.

Within ten minutes we were seated upstairs by a six over six window pane overlooking Tosca’s restaurant. The waitress approached our table with the blank, angry expression usually reserved for junkies, inmates, and idiots. Seeing our full drinks on the table, she asked us if she could get us drinks. When we pointed out that we had just gotten drinks from the bar, she asked if we had paid for them (?). When we said that we had, she turned and walked away. Unbeknownst to us, this was going to be a recurring theme.

The girlfriend and I sat staring at each other with a sense of bemused shock. Within ten minutes, she was back with a quick “Whattyouwant?” I ordered a fried oyster plate, and the girlfriend ordered a Greek salad and a cup of chili. Within 2 minutes she came back, looked at us, and said “Who had the salad?”

When the girlfriend said, “That’s me,” smiled, and sat back, the waitress literally turned away, and dropped the bowl on the table. She didn’t even bother to drop it anywhere near the girlfriends placemat. The shocked bemusement that we shared earlier was beginning to turn a little sour.

Common sense tips Part I:

• Look it’s 5 minutes, and it’s your job. If you can’t retain facts for more than 2 minutes, jot a simple note, like “Girl: salad” on your notepad. You can even use secret shorthand like a little “G” with a circle in it next to where you wrote salad on your pad.
• Try not to throw the food at the patrons. They’ll resent it.
• If people order together, they usually would like to receive their meal together. It makes things less awkward by avoiding the “Go ahead and eat” battles.

In 15 or 20 minutes, I got about eight oysters on top of cold fries. Cost? $12.95. The “waitress” said, “forgot your tartar sauce,” and took off for another fifteen minutes. She then came back, shot me a blank yet menacing look, pulled a container out of her apron and threw it on the table as she was walking away. It think that the look was a dare, as the “tartar sauce” was so shiny that even I, a man who once ate wet dog food out of the dog’s food bowl for a dollar, was afraid to eat it. I began wolfing down the dinner hoping only to shorten my stay in restaurant hell.

Common sense tips Part II:

• If your service and food suck, at least give a lot of sucky food. Even though you and I know that shit times two is still shit, it makes the customer think that you are providing some value.
• If there are fries, Americans like Ketchup. It’s something waitresses should know in our country.
• Tartar sauce should not be stored in direct sunlight.
• Don’t pull anything out of your apron and expect me to eat it unless you are a grandma and it’s a wrapped piece of ribbon candy. If you are a waitress, you will be penalized for this move. Fines are doubled for creamy or runny foods.

The check was coming, and the waitress left twice to go add it up. The girlfriend shot me a look and said “I’ve got this one,” and I knew not to argue. She pulled out the $20 and I provided the $.65 that the bill called for. Tip? A whopping $0.00.

“I’ve never not left a tip,” said the girlfriend, “but I don’t feel bad about that at all.

Chapter II: The Beach
For a town closed for the season, Nantasket was absolutely jumping last night. There were people everywhere as if it were the first day of summer. The roof deck of the Red Parrot, which was closed for the season a couple of weeks ago, was packed last night. We went to sit at the table of some youths that had somehow taken it as their territory even though they were sitting at the bar. We apologetically offered to concede, but they graciously gave up their territory with a pat on the back, and a drunken sense of camaraderie.

It was ten minutes after we sat down before anyone even noticed that we were sitting at an uncleared table. After the horrendous service at the Liberty Grill, and given that we were only there for dessert, the girlfriend started making the move to leave. I mentioned that it was a beautiful night, we had an unobstructed view of the ocean, and the key lime pie was worth waiting for. Her anxious expression melted into a smile as she sat back to enjoy the ocean air.

Within minutes a harried young waitress with a small pony tail on top of her head rushed to our table and quickly bussed it, all the while apologizing for the wait. “All the college kids are gone, leaving us at half staff,” she said exhaustedly. We encouraged her to take her time because we were in no rush. In another minute, she took our drink order as we started perusing the dessert menu. The waitress suggested the fried cheesecake, virtually panicking the girlfriend. I though that it sounded very interesting, and said that I would gladly turn over my key lime pie to her if she didn’t like it.

Let me say this: When you’re up until One in the morning waiting for the sugar shock to subside, you will do so happily, remembering only the good times that you and that cheesecake had together.

Afterward
After a short walk, we sat on the sea wall listening to a really, really bad cover band playing in Emilio’s until I couldn’t take it anymore and needed to get away from their unique medley of 70’s party songs. From there, we went home, and I was literally up until 1 AM from all the sugar, bringing another Saturday night in Hull to a close.

Posted in #1GF!, Anger, Food, Happy