It's nice to be able to go out and have someone else wait on me for a change. As much as I'd like to be high maintenance and have my server running around the way my tables have had me do lately, I don't see any point in perpetuating the bad diner cycle. That, and I'd feel bad. I already have enough on my plate to feel bad about, I don't need to add "rude to Olive Garden server" to the list.
Naturally, we sat at the bar to pass the time while we endured the standard 20-minute Olive Garden wait for a table. I don't know what it is about that place but you have to camp out at the doors like a bargain shopper waiting to get his hands on the half-priced flat-screen TV on Boxing Day if you want a table right away.
My lunch mate and former roommate asked the bartender for his suggestion of "what's good to drink."
I don't like when people ask for my opinion of what they should eat. I don't want the responsibility of picking out something a table is going to like. All I know is what I like to eat not what some stranger wants for dinner.
You wouldn't know by looking at me but I hate all things melon. It's a useless, awful tasting fruit and just recently in Winnipeg cantaloupes have been recalled because they may be contaminated with salmonella. I can only conclude that cantaloupes and all melons are not only disgusting and ruiners of fruit salad but potentially lethal.
Enough about gross fruit.
The bartender suggested the "Italian Margarita." So that's what we each got. Standard margarita: Sauza, Triple Sec and here's what makes it Italian, I suppose: a shot of DiSaronno on the side.
Chels, my partner in crime, poured her amaretto in a rocks glass and squeezed her citrus in it to create the ultimate before-noon beverage. She told our server to which he responded:
"I'm going to go in the kitchen and let all of the staff know, then probably make it my Facebook status."
That gave us a good laugh and got him a good tip.
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