So I promise not to bore anyone with irritating vacation stores for the next 2 years, but this one made me laugh so I have to share.
I have never claimed that The Gazelle was a worldly man. I’ve also never claimed to be attracted to men of that sort. I love him because he is like me…comfortably naive to some of the finer things in life, yet open-minded and willing to learn. I grew up in a very small town, and didn’t move to the big city until I was 21 years old. I like to think that I’ve retained some of my innate Country Girl charm, despite the fact that I’ve now lived in the city for 10 years. The Gazelle was born and raised in the Washington, DC area. Although he didn’t grow up country, his family is from North Carolina, so it’s in his blood.
I regress…
While on vacation, I was lucky enough to have an old friend drive into Phoenix from Tucson to have dinner with myself and The Gazelle. He was actually my junior prom date (strictly platonic, I promise). I’ll show you the picture later. It’s gonna blow your mind. So, Junior Prom Date met us at our hotel bar, and after about an hour of catching up, we departed to Kinkaid’s for steak and conversation.
Everything was going great. Drink orders…check! Salad orders…check!
Then came time to order dinner. Junior Prom Date and I ordered our dinners. The Gazelle, being the open-minded man that he is, inquired to the waitress “how is the duck?”
“It’s ok…if you like duck.”
Oh no, he wasn’t deterred by this. He asked more questions about the duck.
“You should try the prime rib, it’s excellent”, the waitress replied.
To that, The Gazelle answered “oh no, I don’t like ribs at all.”
I felt my cheeks get hot, and I think I began to feel my armpits get a little sticky. Did my boyfriend, the man I love & adore with all of my heart, just tell the waitress that he doesn’t want prime rib because he doesn’t like ribs? Err…what do I do…what do I say?
So, true to form, I did nothing. I said nothing. I just let it unfold right before my very eyes. I was afraid to look at Junior Prom Date for fear that he would think that I was a horrible country-rooted girlfriend for not schooling my city boyfriend on the vast disparity between prime ribs and bbq ribs.
I have to give the waitress a lot of credit because she flowed right through this mishap with little more than a slight eye roll. She carried on and just let him order the duck. After she left, I very matter-of-factly brought up the story of my 20 year old assistant at work who made the very same mistake last year at our work Christmas party. I think that I effectively got my point across, without bruising his pride too awfully much…and I doubt that he’ll make the same mistake again.
So, if you made it this far into my rambling post about prime rib vs. bbq ribs, then you have earned this…
See…aren’t you so happy you waited? I think this picture can be the subject of several blogs to come.
And, alas…I promise to write about jogging soon. There are just so many other fun things to talk about in the meantime.
