So I had this salad at a restaurant on Tuesday night and literally have been thinking about it nonstop since then.
- We are looking around, trying to find two seats next to each other when this gentleman walks up to us, gets a little too close IMHO, and introduces himself. Fine and good, I am thinking, But where's that salad?! Not wanting to be rude, we reciprocate with introductions. He then points to a table of men and tells us how much they would love for us to join them and that although we might find their humor sophomoric, he can guarantee that we will have a good time. We politely say thank you and get to the furthest side of the bar. As we walk away I wonder if sophomoric was his dictionary word of the day that google so kindly provided.
- We finally find two seats at the furthest end of the bar and are eagerly anticipating our respective salads. Three gentleman walk up to us, letting us know that they are celebrating one of their birthdays. This involves us, how? I wonder. Birthday gentleman takes my arm and asks me my name in a move that he probably considers quite smooth and I consider quite annoying. I say Jessica and he says Mmmm, I like that in a way that would make you think that my name is exotic, unusual, or a tasty donut. It is neither. It is also not my salad. And I wanted that salad.
- One pick up line of the night went like this, Hey Dave, can I tell them about all of your cuts? Dave, who is sitting on the other side of us, says yes and his friend continues. Dave has been trying to get into the major leagues for years and has now been cut four times in a row!!! At that he laughs like it's the best joke around town. We don't know whether to laugh with him or acknowledge how much life can suck sometimes. Really, with wingmen like that, who needs enemies?
- A gentleman walks up to me and poses these two questions: Are you a skater? I say no. Are you a skier? No, again. He walks on.
- The man who has been cut from the major leagues tells us that he could tell we weren't from Pittsburgh. Why is that? I ask. All the girls here have fake tans and bad makeup. I laugh and say that I myself have what could be considered bad makeup, since I still have stage makeup on. No, he says, I am talking about someone like...And proceeds to start looking for a poor tanned and blue eye-shadowed lady to point to. We stop him, telling him we don't need to actually see an example, before he can single out the sad creature to us.
- We eat our salads. Life is perfect again.
- Finally, we are ready to leave when one of the gentleman asks if he can buy us some drinks, trying to convince us to stay by saying, Come on. You're in Pittsburgh, you only live once.