“Sorry for the delay” the girl smiled at him, “It’s been busy around here lately.”
“Oh, don’t worry.” midfr0st hoped he didn’t sound too annoyed. Feels like I’ve been waiting since bloody Christmas, I hope it’s worth it.
“Do you have a reservation?” The girl asked.
“Yes it’s that one,” midfr0st said and pointed at a line in her notebook. He felt uneasy with his name printed in plain view like that. Stop being so freaking paranoid, he thought, hoping his chills were from the weather outside instead of a product from his demons.
“Will you be dining alone?” midfr0st removed his finger from her reservations list.
“Just me, but you’re welcome to join me.”
Her smile grew a bit, “your table will be ready shortly.”
“The bar it is then.”
“That way sir,” she said pointing in the direction of the bar.
The place was fairly crowded so there was a buzz of chatter blended in with some classical music.
“What can I get for you sir?” the man behind the bar asked.
“Red wine, I’ll have that bottle,” midfr0st said pointing to a brand he knew of.
“Excellent choice,” the bartender poured him a drink.
You would have said that regardless of what I drank, midfr0st thought.
After his second glass his table was ready.
“I´ll just bring the bottle if that’s alright?” midfr0st asked not really waiting for the answer. They seated him in the corner of the room where he had a full view of the restaurant. He smiled; it was the table he would have chosen for himself. No one would be able to sneak up on him from behind. If I don’t get too drunk that is.
midfr0st was flipping through the menu trying to figure out what language the meals were written in. At the table next to his a waiter was explaining to two men what they had ordered and how the meals had been prepared. I wonder if that was the French word for road kill?
Soon a waiter was ready to take midfr0st’s order.
“I’ll have number fourteen as a starter and number thirty seven as my main course.”
“Ah, the foie gras and the steak, wonderful. Have you decided on a dessert?”
“I’ll see if I want one later.”
“And what would you like to drink to that?” she asked, midfr0st caught her looking at the empty bottle.
“What can you recommend?” midfr0st asked.
“That’s not really my area of expertise, wait a second and I’ll fetch our wine expert.”
The waiter ran off and a few minutes later a short guy came rushing to midfr0st’s table.
“Good evening, sir” he saluted and opened their wine list.
“What price range were you aiming for?” he asked glancing at the bottle on the table.
“Well if the wine is older than me it’s probably too expensive,” midfr0st confessed.
The man launched into a wild discussion, mostly with himself, about the different wines the restaurant had to offer. It sounded like he had an intimate relationship with the lot of them. In the end midfr0st didn’t really know what it was he had ordered, just that he had probably never paid that much for a bottle of wine before.
I should have a sommelier when I live in a mansion, midfr0st mused watching the guy walking away from his table. But mine won’t be gay as a meatball.