Water? No, a beer
please 25Feb2009
This is an old story but i´m just getting around to posting it. Plus, i dont have anything in particular to discuss in public this week. And, ok – i have to admit that I fudged the title a little
to make it rhyme. Lunch should be written
as ‘el almuerzo.’ so, fire me... :)
So, one of my
favorite things about days off is ordering a beer with a nice long lunch. Since I’m ‘off’ everyday here, I clearly
can’t make this an everyday activity, else I’ll be buying a whole new wardrobe
of pants here (As an aside, this would be
the place to buy new pants. I don’t know
who these designers are, but they’ve mastered fitting bodies with little waists
and not so little below the waists :)). And,
since there’s almost always really good home-cooked food at the house, it seems
almost wasteful to eat out here. But, I’ve
decided that eating out for lunch once every 1-2 weeks is not
unreasonable. Thing is, I’m the kind of
gal that likes to have “a place” where I go for lunch and a beer. In Baltimore,
my places were Mama’s on the Half Shell and the Waterfront Hotel (WTF). Great food, close to home (walkable),
interesting bartenders... I almost thought
I had found “my place” here in Santo
Domingo today...
So I stop at this
cozy little Italian restaurant down the street from where I live. I know what you’re thinking – Italian food in
the DR? But, according to my Fodor’s
Travel Guide, some Italian in Santo
Domingo is actually good. Well, today the restaurant is sparsely
populated; a relief from the food court of the mall that I’d just left which
was overrun with adolescents just out of school. I had been eyeing this place for a couple of
days and decided today would be the day.
The menu looked good, prices reasonable, and I got to pick my own
table. I chose a cute little table for
two in the corner where I sat with my back to the wall looking out at the
restaurant in one direction and a nice large window in the other; great for
people-watching or reading my book in peace...
Waiter asks, “what
would you like to drink-bottled water?”
I reply, “No, una cerveza por favor, Presidente.” Sweet...
Ten or fifteen
minutes after I’ve ordered, deez guys show up at the restaurant. You should already know because I wrote “deez
guys” and I’m usually very particular about my grammar, where this story is going. So these 5 guys come in, and I’m not lying to
you – three of them had on button down shirts with the first 3 or 4 buttons undone. There was bling galore (big chains, big rings),
and I swear one guy was missing the tip of his pinky finger. It was quite a sight, and I would say they
didn’t really seem to fit in with most people I’d met in the neighborhood… I’m thinkin’, “Can it be, the “Sopranos” in Santo Domingo?” You know what I was really thinking but I’m
not going to actually write it here since this is a public domain... (and if you
write it, your comment will be promptly deleted :))
Anyway, there was
a guy sitting alone at this table for six in the back, 3 tables away from mine. I’m not sure how close he was to finishing
his meal, but when I looked up again from my book less than a minute later, he
was gone and the dudes were sitting at that table. It gets better. They don’t have menus and I don’t think they
ordered – but food just starts like magically raining down on the table; several
courses, in fact. I don’t think anyone
else’s food in the restaurant even got started before their food was just about
done. They were done and out before I
was halfway through my meal. I’m
thinking, this is too strange; this can’t be my place...
One of the guys
who was facing me in the restaurant kept giving me the eye – the ‘hey mamasita’ eye
throughout their express lunch. Dude even
had the nerve to smile at me through the window once they were outside. Plus, the pizza was not that good. That sealed it – definitely not my place...
