Oh, what a night!
Late October, back in Seventeen
What a very special time for me
As I remember (and always will), what a night...
We really should have known better. If anyone reading this is one of those lucky (insert laughing, crying, eye-rolling emoji here) friends who has had the intense pleasure of working in restaurants, you know better too. You never- NEVER- go out to a restaurant on a FRIDAY night. Ever.
I realize to a majority of you this may seem asinine to say, since, duh- that is THE night to go out. And God bless you, sincerely, for keeping the rest of us in apartments and houses and clothes and hot water all these years. Friday nights are the bread and butter and the bringing' home the bacon of the those who work in restaurants. But if it's before 10pm on a Friday, and we're not wearing an apron, name tag or logo-ed shirt of some sort, you won't see us in a restaurant.
Nonetheless- there we were. We even had the gall to think we were so clever when we called ahead to put our names on the wait list. EVERYone knows this trick now. So, 6:20, as I was putting on my cute little shorty boots to walk out the door, is right about the time when the fun began. The very hurried and sweet hostess kindly let us know that she could put our name on the wait list, but couldn't give us an accurate estimate of the wait time (which we weren't asking for), but if we wanted to just come up to the restaurant and put our names on the waitlist when we got there, THEN she could give us a more accurate assessment. ?!? I. Can't. I just can't discuss the... this, logic?
Anyway.... While we stupidly accepted the "20-25 minute" estimate shortly after arriving, and settled in for some seriously great people watching, we decided all this would be more lovely with a beer. From a packed bar. Full of people. Who didn't realize that- pay attention here people- when you choose to sit at one of those coveted 15 bar seats, that you yourself likely hovered over only minutes prior, on a full Friday night, at the newest restaurant in the neighborhood, that is on a not-even-close-to-25-minute-wait, you need to deal with the fact the rest of us want a damn beer to accent our people watching, and could you please just scootch two inches over so I can reach between you and the guy you clearly are not with and get myself a beer before the happy hour ends at 7:00, because I am obviously not going to benefit from the also-happy-hour-1/2-off-appetizer since I'm NOT SITTING DOWN and damn it! you are, so move... over. Thanks also to the very sweet bartender, who DID actually acknowledge me and get me our beers, when the other 2 behind the bar did not, but who did also give me a credit card slip to sign, while in between two people who did NOT want to scootch, with a pen that had a lid that I had to remove, and, what, stick on the other end? before I could sign my check (while trying to hold 2 beers and not have to put them both back on the bar next to Mrs. Won't-Scootch-Over). Um, 1972 called, they want their pen back. And Bic called, they want to introduce you to the Clic pen.
Ok. Back to people watching. Our favorite thing. And I promise, we aren't snarky or judgy! There is a lot of "hey, I like her shirt" or "omg, that little girl in the sparkly Birkenstocks is adorable." Sparkly Birkenstocks!!! Can you imagine such an adorable thing?!?! We just love people in general. ... Full disclosure? There are a few... I mean, one guy with a beer belly was rubbing his belly the way a pregnant mom does. Just. No. That's not ok.
Alas! 1 hr and 30 minutes after our "call ahead" call, and 1 hr and 20 minutes after the "20-25 minute," estimate, we sit down. At a booth that can only work for a max of 3 people. Which is fine, because we are 3 people. HowEVER... They sit us at the ONE booth in the restaurant where the table is bolted into the wall and doesn't move. So my husband- who is not large here people, but is a lovely, broad-shouldered 6 ft tall hunk of a man... is... a little... snug... on his side of the booth. Who in the hell fits at these tables? That group of 3 ladies we saw waiting in yoga gear maybe. My sweet love did not want us to wait one minute longer for another table though, so he slides into the booth (which, measure yourselves people, I swear to you is not more than 11 inches in between booth and table) and lets the MANAGER who is seating us know, we are fine. She, fumblingly, realizes he's uncomfortable, and, bolted table and all, offers us a free appetizer to "make up for our long wait" (and shitty-ass table). Ok, cool. We move on.
So, we order and eat and spend some family time, all the while "T-rex arms" is crammed in his side of the booth- thank God he's a lefty, so he doesn't also have to sit off the edge of the chair to comfortably eat while his right arm is crammed against a pillar that juts out into the booth. What is with this table!?!
So, meal done. Family time spent. Server (and his trainee) were good. Maybe even great. Jon didn't have to wait for water I don't think- and 9/10 times, wait for water refills is what he does. So mostly, a good night. Hilariously Dinosaur-ed up, but a good night. Then our check comes. Thanks, ever so much, for... not in fact.. buying our appetizers. Whatever. We pay, we go.
We'll be back, because all-in-all, not the worst night. We won't go on a Friday again. Here, or maybe.. anywhere?! I guess I need to tell you guys where we were if I'm going to go at this blog the way I said we were and get to the point. Red Door Grill- the new one in Overland Park on 159th/Antioch. The food was absolutely delicious. We happily ate our leftovers for lunch on Saturday. On our way out the door the hostess said, "Sorry for the crazy wait! Hopefully it'll slow down." Yikes. That's a death wish. Don't slow down. Just get better. Dive into the busyness and lean into the friendliness of your waitstaff. There is a lot of good stuff happening there and if you "hope for things to slow down" you will die out and that is NOT what this neighborhood needs. Embrace it. We have been waiting for you and will patronize you. You can do it! Be honest and friendly. That's the best thing. Your chefs are doing their part, trust me. Go with it, with a smile, and you guys will do great.
Oh yeah. One thing I promised I would always do is a bathroom assessment. I go to the bathroom almost everywhere I go. Small bladder? Too much water? Coffee? Whatever. There are places I seriously don't go to anymore because their bathrooms are HORRIFIC. I'll keep you posted along the way. The bathrooms here are interesting. Women on one side, men on the other, sinks exposed in the middle. Whaat?! Interesting. When I went into the stall, I was in a mini self-contained bathroom. Love that. However, and I can only blame the busyness, I was reminiscent of a younger version of my son... was this pee splatters? or someone who didn't want to use the self-contained bathroom hand-drier and just shook their hands in the middle of this bathroom? Let's hope. I had my own sink, own hand-drier. Lovely. When does that happen?
Oh, one last thing. The girl who was training with our server was doing great. She confessed to us that she didn't know much yet, it was her first night, and she was still learning tables. "What table are we?" I asked. Ummmm... 13. Right. Of course we are. Lucky #13. :)
What a very special time for me
As I remember (and always will), what a night...
We really should have known better. If anyone reading this is one of those lucky (insert laughing, crying, eye-rolling emoji here) friends who has had the intense pleasure of working in restaurants, you know better too. You never- NEVER- go out to a restaurant on a FRIDAY night. Ever.
I realize to a majority of you this may seem asinine to say, since, duh- that is THE night to go out. And God bless you, sincerely, for keeping the rest of us in apartments and houses and clothes and hot water all these years. Friday nights are the bread and butter and the bringing' home the bacon of the those who work in restaurants. But if it's before 10pm on a Friday, and we're not wearing an apron, name tag or logo-ed shirt of some sort, you won't see us in a restaurant.
Nonetheless- there we were. We even had the gall to think we were so clever when we called ahead to put our names on the wait list. EVERYone knows this trick now. So, 6:20, as I was putting on my cute little shorty boots to walk out the door, is right about the time when the fun began. The very hurried and sweet hostess kindly let us know that she could put our name on the wait list, but couldn't give us an accurate estimate of the wait time (which we weren't asking for), but if we wanted to just come up to the restaurant and put our names on the waitlist when we got there, THEN she could give us a more accurate assessment. ?!? I. Can't. I just can't discuss the... this, logic?
Anyway.... While we stupidly accepted the "20-25 minute" estimate shortly after arriving, and settled in for some seriously great people watching, we decided all this would be more lovely with a beer. From a packed bar. Full of people. Who didn't realize that- pay attention here people- when you choose to sit at one of those coveted 15 bar seats, that you yourself likely hovered over only minutes prior, on a full Friday night, at the newest restaurant in the neighborhood, that is on a not-even-close-to-25-minute-wait, you need to deal with the fact the rest of us want a damn beer to accent our people watching, and could you please just scootch two inches over so I can reach between you and the guy you clearly are not with and get myself a beer before the happy hour ends at 7:00, because I am obviously not going to benefit from the also-happy-hour-1/2-off-appetizer since I'm NOT SITTING DOWN and damn it! you are, so move... over. Thanks also to the very sweet bartender, who DID actually acknowledge me and get me our beers, when the other 2 behind the bar did not, but who did also give me a credit card slip to sign, while in between two people who did NOT want to scootch, with a pen that had a lid that I had to remove, and, what, stick on the other end? before I could sign my check (while trying to hold 2 beers and not have to put them both back on the bar next to Mrs. Won't-Scootch-Over). Um, 1972 called, they want their pen back. And Bic called, they want to introduce you to the Clic pen.
Ok. Back to people watching. Our favorite thing. And I promise, we aren't snarky or judgy! There is a lot of "hey, I like her shirt" or "omg, that little girl in the sparkly Birkenstocks is adorable." Sparkly Birkenstocks!!! Can you imagine such an adorable thing?!?! We just love people in general. ... Full disclosure? There are a few... I mean, one guy with a beer belly was rubbing his belly the way a pregnant mom does. Just. No. That's not ok.
Alas! 1 hr and 30 minutes after our "call ahead" call, and 1 hr and 20 minutes after the "20-25 minute," estimate, we sit down. At a booth that can only work for a max of 3 people. Which is fine, because we are 3 people. HowEVER... They sit us at the ONE booth in the restaurant where the table is bolted into the wall and doesn't move. So my husband- who is not large here people, but is a lovely, broad-shouldered 6 ft tall hunk of a man... is... a little... snug... on his side of the booth. Who in the hell fits at these tables? That group of 3 ladies we saw waiting in yoga gear maybe. My sweet love did not want us to wait one minute longer for another table though, so he slides into the booth (which, measure yourselves people, I swear to you is not more than 11 inches in between booth and table) and lets the MANAGER who is seating us know, we are fine. She, fumblingly, realizes he's uncomfortable, and, bolted table and all, offers us a free appetizer to "make up for our long wait" (and shitty-ass table). Ok, cool. We move on.
So, we order and eat and spend some family time, all the while "T-rex arms" is crammed in his side of the booth- thank God he's a lefty, so he doesn't also have to sit off the edge of the chair to comfortably eat while his right arm is crammed against a pillar that juts out into the booth. What is with this table!?!
So, meal done. Family time spent. Server (and his trainee) were good. Maybe even great. Jon didn't have to wait for water I don't think- and 9/10 times, wait for water refills is what he does. So mostly, a good night. Hilariously Dinosaur-ed up, but a good night. Then our check comes. Thanks, ever so much, for... not in fact.. buying our appetizers. Whatever. We pay, we go.
We'll be back, because all-in-all, not the worst night. We won't go on a Friday again. Here, or maybe.. anywhere?! I guess I need to tell you guys where we were if I'm going to go at this blog the way I said we were and get to the point. Red Door Grill- the new one in Overland Park on 159th/Antioch. The food was absolutely delicious. We happily ate our leftovers for lunch on Saturday. On our way out the door the hostess said, "Sorry for the crazy wait! Hopefully it'll slow down." Yikes. That's a death wish. Don't slow down. Just get better. Dive into the busyness and lean into the friendliness of your waitstaff. There is a lot of good stuff happening there and if you "hope for things to slow down" you will die out and that is NOT what this neighborhood needs. Embrace it. We have been waiting for you and will patronize you. You can do it! Be honest and friendly. That's the best thing. Your chefs are doing their part, trust me. Go with it, with a smile, and you guys will do great.
Oh yeah. One thing I promised I would always do is a bathroom assessment. I go to the bathroom almost everywhere I go. Small bladder? Too much water? Coffee? Whatever. There are places I seriously don't go to anymore because their bathrooms are HORRIFIC. I'll keep you posted along the way. The bathrooms here are interesting. Women on one side, men on the other, sinks exposed in the middle. Whaat?! Interesting. When I went into the stall, I was in a mini self-contained bathroom. Love that. However, and I can only blame the busyness, I was reminiscent of a younger version of my son... was this pee splatters? or someone who didn't want to use the self-contained bathroom hand-drier and just shook their hands in the middle of this bathroom? Let's hope. I had my own sink, own hand-drier. Lovely. When does that happen?
Oh, one last thing. The girl who was training with our server was doing great. She confessed to us that she didn't know much yet, it was her first night, and she was still learning tables. "What table are we?" I asked. Ummmm... 13. Right. Of course we are. Lucky #13. :)
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