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还记得不记得过去外出吃饭是件宽心愉快的事情？有人为你掌勺、服务, 你走后又为你收拾桌子。而你所要做的只是咀嚼、吞咽和付账。可是这已成了过去。今天外出吃饭, 你就像一只实验室里的老鼠, 为了得到一块奶酪, 你不得不在迷宫中四处乱窜。
Remember when eating out was a relaxing experience？Someone else cooked for you, served you and cleaned up after you. All you had to do was chew, swallow and pay. No longer, though. Today you feel like a laboratory rat who has to struggle through a maze every time it wants a chunk of cheese.
“Good evening, ”the maitre said. “Table for four？”
“Yes, thank you. ”
“Smoking or non？”
“Nonsmoking. ”
“Would you prefer to dine indoors or outdoors this evening？”
“I guess indoors would be good. ”
“Very well, sir, ”he said. “Would you like to be seated in the main dining room or our lovely solarium1）？”
“Uh, let me see. . . uh. . . ”
“I can give you a table with a lovely view in our lovely solarium. ”
“I think the solarium would be lovely, ”I said. We followed him here.
“Now, would you prefer a view over looking the golf course, the sunset on the lake or the majestic2) mountains to the west？”
“Whatever you recommend, ”I said. Let him make a decision for a change, I thought.
He sat us by a window facing the golf course, the lake or the mountains. I couldn’t tell which because it was dark outside.
Then a young man better dressed and better looking than any of us presented himself at our table. “Good evening, my name is Paul, and I’ll be your waiter this evening. Would you like a few minutes before I take your order？”
“No, ”I said. “I’m just a meat-and-potatoes guy, so I’ll have the filet and a baked potato. ”
“Soup or salad？”
“Salad. ”
“We have a mixed-green salad, hearts of palm or a very fine endive salad with baby shrimp. ”
“Just a mixed-green salad, okay？”
“Whatever you say, sir. Dressing？”
I did’ t want to make another decision. “Whatever you’ve got will be fine. ”
“We have creamy Italian, blue cheese, vinaigrette3）, Thousand Island, honey Dijon, ranch. . . ”
“Just bring me one. ”
“Creamy Italian is our house specialty. Would that be all right, sir？”
“Yeah. ”I was curt.
“And your baked potato. . . ”
I knew what was coming. “I just want the baked potato dry, you understand？I don’t want anything on it. ”
“No butter？No sour cream？”
“No. ”
“No chives？”
“No. Don’t you understand English？”I shouted. “I don’t want anything on it. Just bring me a baked potato and a steak. ”
“Would you prefer the six-, eight-or 12-ounce steak, sir？”“Whatever. ”“Would you like that rare, medium rare, medium, medium well or well done？”
“Pauly Boy, ”I said, “you are really starting to get me steamed. ”
“Which brings up the vegetables, sir？Would you like steamed broccoli4), creamed corn, diced carrots. . . ”
That did it. I threw my napkin to the floor, stood up, put my face right in his arrogant5) kisser and said, “How’d you like to settle this outside？”
“Fine with me, sir. Would you prefer the parking lot, the side alley or the street in front of the restaurant？”“I prefer right here, ”I said, and sucker-punched him.
He ducked, then countered with a left hook right under my eye. It was the first time all night he hadn’t offered me a selection. I collapsed semiconscious6) into my chair.
I felt my tie being loosened, my collar unbuttoned, hands slapping my face. When I regained my senses, I saw the very concerned maitre right in front of my nose. He apologized and offered to buy me a drink, call the paramedics7)――whatever I wanted.
“No, no, ”I said. “I’ll be all right. Just bring me a glass of water. ”
“Yes, sir, right away, ”He said. “Would you prefer imported mineral water, sparkling water8) or soda with a wedge of lime？”
