It's Friday! And TGIF, as usual. I took a long, hot shower after work to beat out the week. Then Shelby came over, and we three walked up the street to sample a reasonably-priced neighborhood French restaurant, planning to return afterwards to our apartment to a Flight of the Conchords fest on DVD.
We had an amazing dinner. I had tender, succulent chicken flavored with rosemary atop savory mushroom risotto in a red wine and truffle oil sauce; Shelby had a juicy turkey burger on a perfectly toasted bun; Chris had one of the best mesclun salads I've ever tasted and a deliciously chewy, lean hangar steak with carmelized onions and some crispy frites.
As we were finishing up our meal, second only in recent months to the Lincoln Cafe in quality, I glanced over at the table next to us and
saw one of the biggest cockroaches in MY LIFE climbing up the tabletop toward one woman's plate.
I couldn't even scream, or cry out, or point. I was paralyzed with shock. Then the woman saw it and shrieked; the table jostled and wine glasses toppled; everyone around gasped and stood up, flailing.
Chris said sternly, "Everyone stay calm" and swooped in with a napkin for the kill. "My hero!" the woman actually said (hmph. He's MINE actually). The table on the other side of the afflicted one applauded.
I don't have a point to this story, except that as delicious as dinner was I don't think I can eat at that restaurant again, or at least I'm going to want to sit in the middle of the floor and not in a booth. The bug was the size of a poodle, I swear to God.
I'm still squirming!!!!!