So I’m enjoying some peace and quiet yesterday after my husband left for work and my friend Debbie IMed me and tried to goad me into getting out of the house and doing something with her.
“Let’s go see a movie!”
“Nah, there’s nothing to see”
“Let’s go to the Egyptian exhibit in San Jose”
“Nah, it’s Mexican Independance Day and a bunch of streets are blocked off.”
“Let’s go shopping for shoes!”
(a vague stirring within)
“Hmmm…ok, I guess I could look at some shoes. And since it IS Mexican Independance Day and all, I suppose we should maybe have a margarita or something.”
“Now you’re talking.”
So we plan to meet downtown in San Francisco, and later in chat I persuade SeaDiver to come along. (“Did you say SHOES? Where do I meet you!”)
Introductions are made, styles are berated, shoes are purchased and talk turns to dinner. I mentioned that since we were near the Macy*s on Union Square we could go to the Cheesecake Factory, but being Saturday night it was likely to be crowded. We figured “Oh well, EVERYPLACE is likely to be crowded downtown on a Saturday.” So we trekked up to the top floor around 6:30 and were greeted with the expected immense crowd.
I see two lines approaching the hostesses’ stand and ask someone “Is this the line to put your name down?” and he said “yes.” Bad sign, I suppose, having to wait to even WAIT. About 15 minutes later I get to the front of the line and they take my name. I’m then told “It’ll be about an hour, or maybe an hour and a half. Come back in 45 minutes for a buzzer.” Bad sign #2…they’re so backed up they’re out of buzzers! SeaDiver heads off to find an ATM and Debbie and I use the restroom. We go back to the waiting area to wait for SeaDiver and pass the time chitchatting and hoping for a seat to open up. (There are like seats for maybe 10 people to wait, there are of course at least 100 people waiting including the bar and the patio.)
SeaDiver returns about a half hour later and when she’s informed of the wait for even a buzzer she huffs: “I say we ask for a buzzer NOW!” I told her she might as well get in line now, since it’ll have been 45 minutes once she gets to the front anyway. She returns 15 minutes later triumphant and we decide to get a drink while we continue to wait.
We crush through the throng in the bar and I stand at a gap in the people waiting for the bartender to catch his breath. He says: “Be right with you.” as he finishes some drinks for the people next to us. At this time a sinister, late middle-aged dirigble of a woman, with an “old Oprah” sized body crammed into “new Oprah” sized leather pants (::shudder:: ) AND a bleached blond mini-beehive crushes past me to the bar with an empty martini glass and what looks to be a Mai Tai sort of drink. The three of us stare at her while she plunks the drink on the counter and says “She doesn’t like this.” Of course we all look at each other and think “So what? Shut up and drink it.” The bartender asks if she’d like something else and the woman tells him “No, I want you to make it RIGHT.” Ooooookay! So after he gets some helpful “suggestions” on how to make a basic bar drink :rolleyes: he finishes re-making the drink and artfully places a wedge of fruit on top. To this the woman blurts “You didn’t touch that with your hands, did you? Make another one and use tongs.” Good lord! The guy is so busy making drinks and washing his hands there isn’t time for a germ to even alight on his body! The drink is FINALLY made to her satisfaction (probably not, actually) and he makes her another martini. He doesn’t put enough onions in. She says “more!” He adds more and then lifts another spoonful and raises his eyebrows questioningly. She shreiks “That’s enough, and I don’t like your attitude!!!” The bartender charges her $4.75 for the drink and she slams a quarter down on the bar and leaves. A QUARTER!!! I walk BACK up to the bar in a semi-daze and wait for the guy to catch up again, and he finally takes my order. "One pint of Anchorsteam and two Lemon Drop Martinis…and you can make them any way you like!! Much hooting ensues from the neighboring seats at the bar and the bartender grins sheepishly.
Armed (finally) with liquor we grab some free floorspace to stand and wait. By this time we’re starting to recognise people who’ve been waiting as long as us (It’s going on 8 o’clock; we’ve been there an hour and a half.) They look unhappy, tired and empty…as do we. Children are slumping to the floor. Men look wistful, as if remembering days of their youth, before they came to this restaurant. Women drinking on empty stomachs cackle deleriously…as do we. 
Our legs are tired from standing on the hard marble floor. Our feet are swollen. Debbie takes the buzzer up to the desk and returns saying “20 minutes more!!!” We return to the restroom at which there is a line (how could there NOT be?) A woman pipes goodnaturedly from the back “no primping in the stalls, ladies, there’s a line!” I replied “That’s right, it’s Power Pee time!” This was met with much drunken chortling and cries of “POWER PEE” when I took a stall. Never one to disappoint, I burst from the stall mere seconds later with my arms held high “Rocky” style, to the appropriate applause.
Back at the landing, Debbie announces we need more drinks if we’re going to have to wait even MORE. SeaDiver agrees and adds “Let’s get disorderly and trash this joint.” I said “I’ll wait here and save our spot.” Much time later they return with the drinks and SeaDiver goes back up to the desk with the buzzer and asks if it’s broken. She returns scowling and says there are still 3 parties of 3 ahead of us. We continue to drink sloshily, an employee with a towel discreetly wiping puddles from around our feet (and several others in the area.) And finally, it happens. SeaDiver’s eyes get as big as saucers and she holds the buzzing pager in the air. There is much snideness and loud exclamation. “It’s buzzing! It happened! Dreams really do come true!!!”
Now I’m sure you’re thinking “then they got a table.” Well, no. The Cheesecake Factory has this charming (and by “charming” I mean “terribly inefficient”) system of hearding the “buzzed” people (buzzed as in paged, not buzzed as in drunk, for by that point that was pretty much the entire clientle) off to the side were they could continue to wait for their server to come seat them. A short time later (in comparison) we are finally seated. A check of the watch tells us it is now 8:30. It took us TWO HOURS to get a table. And believe me we made it just in time. SeaDiver had already gone out to the patio for much needed air and I could barely still stand upright.
After finally getting seated, we took the time to savor an admittedly wonderful dinner, and a delicious caramel cheesecake for dessert. We were seated on the patio and had a rooftop view of lovely (?) Union Square. (I felt like Gene Hackman! Heh, heh.) We made fun of all the music and danced in our seats and had an all around grand time.
After finally paying the check. (“Sorry, I can’t give you change because the cashier only has $7 in singles and I only have 4.” !!!) And FINALLY getting my food which I’d asked to have boxed up like a half hour previous, we staggered back out to the main restaurant at 10:30 to shockingly see dozens and dozens of people still waiting and ARRIVING for dinner. Sakes alive! We make one last stop to the pitiful 4 stall restroom and entertain the waiting line by singing along to the pretentious love song being crooned on the speakers. “You know,” I told Debbie, “I wrote this for you.” She replied “Actually I did have a guy write me a song once…” “Oh, was it that Armour HotDog song? 'Cos that’s a toe-tapper!”
I herd everyone to BART (they had another drink with dinner, while I was content to merely stuff my face with food like an animal.) And stare at my grotesquely swelling feet bulging out of my sandals on the way home. I arrive home at Midnight to 4, count them 4 phone messages from my husband, each growing more frantic. I call to let him know I haven’t been abducted by aliens, put my food in the fridge, massage my poor blistered aching feet with Tea Tree lotion, and crash heavily into bed.
It’s now 5 in the afternoon on Sunday, and the muscles in my legs still ache, but I had a great time, and had great food, and great fun with friends.
LET US NEVER SPEAK OF THIS AGAIN!!!