A Fine Dining Experience

I had the privilege of taking my beautiful girlfriend out to dinner last night for her birthday. It was a lovely evening and we had a great time and experience. But, as usual, I feel the need to point out some nonsense that I encountered. (I feel like I'm becoming the next Larry David.....always having to point out what's wrong with a situation).

On the basis that I had a gift certificate, I chose to dine at a restaurant called Acapella, a northern Italian place down in Tribeca. Amazing place, the food was delectable and the service was ridiculously impeccable. They run a fancy establishment and it's no place for the savage. It's definitely a 3-star fine dining experience...which frankly, I wasn't expecting. I wasn't prepared, and the reason I wasn't prepared is because it's not 1987 and I didn't have a job on Wall Street. Nonetheless, I enjoy spoiling my girlfriend cuz she deserves every ounce of it, and it was a special occasion being her birthday, so we indulged a bit over our heads. Had a great time.

But I realized there's a catch 22 inherent in the fine dining experience. When you actually do it, it's supposed to be a special treat for yourself and whoever you're with...right? Well, sort of. On the one hand, yes....it's a nice experience to be taken care of with such refinement and attention to detail. On the other hand, it can be a source of discomfort because you feel like you're not doing anything right. Like some kind of high-school angst that's grand-fathered back in a voice that says you're not good enough to be here or if you do something that's not "cool" you'll be mocked, however subtly.

Now I don't think Joanna and I did anything wrong at all (okay, I may have licked my fingers once or twice....that's on me), but even still the pleasure and relaxation was affected a bit because we were on our toes to be proper and not screw up in some way. Joanna seemed a little more intimidated by this factor than I was, as I tend to mock policies and protocols that exist for no good reason. However, I was still affected by her stress because I had to get her to relax a bit and enjoy herself on her birthday.

Now I don't mean to say that this place was uppedy or snobbish, not at all. It's fine dining....it is what it is. Our waiter was quite affable and we were greeted warmly. However there was also a "captain" that approached our table (a captain, for those of you who don't know....is your actual waiter in a place like this.......they just don't do any real work, you see them once when they take your order, and that's the end of the relationship). Anyway, our captain, though knowledgeable and courteous, was a bit imposing with his suggestions. Naturally, it's his job to "sell" us on the specials and the vino, but it was far more than merely inviting, he was strongly suggestive.........as if to think I'd be out of my mind if I didn't want an appetizer? "You should try "this", you should try "that"....how about "this" for the lady, and afterward I'll bring you our list of cogniacs and ports." What am I, a male stripper? I just have bills comin' out of my ass crack over here? Should I duct tape my wallet to my forehead and then tie up my hands so you can get into it at will?

Now he was just doing his job, but again it was that intimidation factor that kept the moment from being enjoyable. Now admittedly, Joanna and I don't eat like that very often, and I'm sure our captain could sense that in little time. Especially when I ordered the "scallops", which read Scallopine on the menu.......he corrected me that it was actually veal. Case in point, I didn't know what the hell I was talking about despite my efforts to remain confident in throwing some of the pressure back his way. I looked like a jack ass, but I was over it within a few seconds. So far, there's really no nonsense of which to report in this experience....just that we were mingling with the "finer" class of palates in the city and feeling the pressure of being among them. No nonsense, that is, until the bill came.

Now please understand, I'm not a stingy guy, but when the check came, that's when I just shook my head in a way that says "this is bullshit". The bill was a bit more pricey than expected, which I'm totally fine with as long as I know what I'm getting into. But we ordered 2 of the appetizers that were special that night, and 2 desserts; none of which was the price cited. No dessert menu was presented, nor was a mathematical figure announced when he was rattling off the specials. You just order in ignorance and boom!....a small Tiramisu cost $14....it was hands down the best Tiramisu I've had, but it was $14. And my sorbet was $12. Yes, sorbet.

This is what I'm talking about. The pressure and expectation to not ask questions or pursue information out of fear that you'll be made to feel ignorant or out of place if you do so. It's that presumptious mentality of fine dining culture that expects you to disregard money as an even remotely problematic issue..."you're obviously willing to spend whatever "we" say you're gonna spend, so I'll just suggest accordingly", says the captain in his head. And he's not wrong for thinking this necessarily. I could have asked how much the desserts were or to see a menu (not that places like this cite prices on everything), but there was a dilemma in doing so. Do I want to ask and risk looking like a cheap boyfriend, and have this guy give me a glare of "you obviously don't belong here"? Or do I just suck it up and consider the occasion and go with it for the sake of making my girlfriend feel taken care of and loved. I'm a wise man most of the time, so I chose the latter. It was a no brainer; after all, I knew where I was.

Now for the real nonsense (sorry to be long-winded). The bill came, everything was fine, but I noticed the check had 2 spaces for 2 distinct tips. One for the waiter, and one for the captain. Really? I kinda wanted to pull them both aside and say, "here's my table, and over there is another table. I need one waiter here, and I'm guessing they can probably use a waiter over there. One of you stay here....and as for the other server.....get the fuck out of here!"

This notion that you have to tip two separate people for 1 table is where I draw the line. Having been a waiter many times before, I'm a 20% tipper always. But as a patron, I really don't need two guys taking turns disseminating information that one person can do....all for the purpose of slyly trying to get more of a tip out of me. Just give me one affable guy with a pen and I'm good to go. So I just tipped slightly over 20% for the whole bill and jotted a tiny note that read "you guys figure it out". I think this is fair, if you're gonna put me in an awkward situation to decide who should get what kind of tip, I'm just gonna throw it right back your way.

I enjoy fine dining, I really do. It's nice to take an occasion and be served with such care and refinement. I made the mistake of not knowing exactly the kind of place I was getting into. I happens sometimes. No biggie. It was a terrific restaurant and supremely excellent food. I'll just know better about the bullshit protocol next time.

Time for lunch, I think there's an Arby's nearby.

Reality TV

I was waiting on the subway recently and I saw a billboard for yet another realty show which looked awful, maybe the worst one yet. It's a new show on the Oxygen network called "Addicted to Beauty"....a show about a team of cosmetologists who run a plastic surgery clinic together or some crap (the drama ensues!!!). Really? Really? Are you friggin' kidding me?

Maybe I'm just missing the draw here, but aren't we getting a little bit out of control with this reality fixation? I see billboards for this crap all the time--Tori and Dean, Dance your Ass Off, America's Next Top Model etc. Who gives a shit about any of this? Newsflash, no one cared about Tori Spelling even when she played a semi-retarded drama queen on Beverly Hills 90210 (a role that was probably not a stretch for her). And the only reason people want to see fat people do anything is so that we can make fun of them for doing that thing even though they're fat....pretty sad. As far as the next top model, I don't even think I can name one model........wait, Derek Zoolander! There ya go, I managed to remember one.

This is without a doubt THE lowest point in the history of television, I'm convinced. Nobody wants to write anything anymore; it's just putting the camera on a group of assholes and yelling "action!" Every time I turn around there's a bus with a huge ad for some garbage show that makes me want to puke on the side of the bus. The sad part is that networks that have since been notorious for producing good programming are now falling for the fad of turning the camera on and just letting people act like asses for the masses. Even TLC (the learning channel) now has a show about psychotic "pageant parents"....you know, the kind of parents that put their toddlers and babies in these beauty pageants. I haven't watched one second of it but I've dated a couple girls who were into pageants and let's just say I should kick my own ass for entertaining that. But the parents are worse because it's THEIR ambition, not the child's. I ask TLC, what's to learn from that? How to not be an asshole should have been covered around 10 yrs of age.

So let's try and answer this question: What is the draw for all of this reality programming? On the business side, I can understand the draw completely. Super cheap budget! No script to pay for, no SAG actors to pay, minimal set to build, and absolutely no talent to take care of. It's quite explainable why networks want to do this. But the real question is...why is it successful?

If what I'm saying is true and it's all garbage, then why are people so caught up in it? I'm a grown man but I'd honestly rather sit down for an old skool episode of Count Duckula on Nickelodeon than watch Tori and Dean become bigger jack-offs in front of everyone. But there are millions and millions of viewers that think otherwise. Why?

Can we safely assume that people watch this stuff because they don't have much else going on in their lives? That seems to be quite a safe assumption considering how many alternative options there are to watching some lady bitch out their husband because little Jeanie didn't have the right baton for the competition. Or worse, the other way around! I don't have a ton of respect for video games as a great way to spend your time, but I gotta say that these new reality series are making Madden '10 look like holding hands with FDR on your way to the Smithsonian.

I'm also gonna throw this out there at the risk of offending some of my readers. Have you ever talked to someone who's hooked on reality TV? I'm not talking about the person who's had a bad day at work and plops down to let his brain rot for 10 mintues (even I do that). Rather, I'm talking about the person who cites particular episodes followed by...."I love that show!" I've encountered plenty of these people, even family members, and they all have one thing in common........they don't know what a scantron is! Okay, maybe that's exaggerating, cuz I certainly know plenty of college educated people who watch this stuff. But honestly, if you just told me what happened in the last episode of Rock of Love w/ Bret Michaels, or Sixteen and Pregnant (awful concept by the way), I want to turn my back on you mid-sentence and walk away; never to waste my eyesight on you again.

Obviously, I'm not coming up with any real answer to my question here. I'm not sure if there is just one answer as to why people watch this stuff. It's probably a myriad of reasons. No education? No parental guidance? No mind? No soul? I do not have the answer. I just know there was a time when characters such as Cliff Huxtable and Alex P. Keaton touched the hearts of American TV viewers. Mr. Belvedere was a gentle man, and we were all supportive of Charles being in charge before he went to the dark side of reality TV as well. I'm simply saying that there used to be endearing, positive figures to watch on the small screen. Happy Days were truly happy days back then, and I can think of no other more comforting and encouraging voice, than the voice of Kit in Knight Rider. He looked after Michael, he cared for him.....he was the "Alfred" of Pontiac Firebirds.

Let's go back to these days people! Let's demand better programming from our networks by saying NO to this horseshit they're putting on the screen. Watching this crap will never make you a singer, it'll never make you a dancer, you'll never tryout for the Dallas Cowboys, and never never never will you screw as many rancid, souless, god-forsaken trash-women as Bret Michaels. So just put downt the remote and start reading for a change. My blog is a good place to start........

Guy Flicks

So nothing really substantive here on this entry...but I was flippin' through the channels last Sunday and good ole' Spike TV was showing a double dosage of Stallone in Rambo. First Blood, followed by First Blood pt. II. Obviously the '81 classic speaks for itself and Brian Dennehy learned some tough lessons in that film, but as I started watching the sequel (1985, same year as Rocky IV), it occurred to me that I hadn't seen this is quite a while and I completely forgot how much ass was kicked by Stallone in that film.

He gets betrayed by his corporeal commander back at the base and left for dead in a Vietnamese prison camp....which was a huge mistake, because Rambo loses it and just starts fucking people up left and right.

The whole thing just made me appreciate being a guy and loving these classic action hero movies that have such a profound impact on a young dude. I'll admit I didn't become Rambo, nor have I fought a Russian boxer nicknamed "The Siberian Express", nor have I fired a machine gun at a transparent alien in the jungles of south America, and I don't have any vale tudo fights in the Kumate. But I could have done all that if I wanted to, I just chose not to........I discovered beer in high school and that's that.