For reasons unknown to me, I was asked back to cater an event after many years in virtual retirement. And I accepted.
It was good to be back.. but what amazed me is how little anything changes. Same menu.. same curtains.. same rug. Sure, some of the more obscure things alter over time, but the big deals in a restaurant remain the same. And the customers? That's the same, too..
Let me preface the next part of this post with this this word of caution: I quit drinking this year. Full flat out quit drinking.. (an occasional glass of wine if I go out, but my consumption dropped 99.9% compared to how I was a bit of ago.) And months not into my quitting, my health has improved dramatically, along with my mood, and my mental presence. I sort of abhor what alcohol did to me, and what it robbed from me. I may talk a bit more in the future on SOUP ON MY FLY, but that will be it for now.
But... the people tonight at the wedding party sure didn't discover what alcohol has been doing to them. People younger than me looked about ten years older than me.. The bellies all were concealed at first. But after a big dinner of high fructose and salt, a few inches popped out. When the drinking games began and the dancing turned into a sloppy drunk fest of shoes flying and arms flailing, the guts burst from the underbelly like a volcano of liver spots.
It was brutal..
There were a few girls who, I thought, were fine. Attractive, I would even say.. A few hours into the wedding reception, their were attempting to stand up with a drink quivering in their hand.. they went from a size 0 to appearing pregnant. Their liver swelling up while they ingested more and more alcohol.. as though it was the end of time. They partied like it was 1999--while the awkward DJ actually played the Prince song.
Things don't change..
I saw a few people of local yocal fame that I knew from my late teens. Don't get me wrong, I am suffering the widow's peak of male baldness beginning, but when your nose is turning a bright shade of near purple and their bellies are protruding so far that they most likely can't even see themselves in their vicinity when they urinate, it just looks worse.
And that is that.
Along with chicken, turkey, and fish that ... sort of seemed extra fishy in the late summer.
It was good to be back, though.
It revived my deep pain of not having a restaurant, and made me convinced that serving food to people is both a blessing and a curse at the same time. It's yin and yang..
I dislike wedding rehearsal dinners. I enjoy being a server at funerals.. I don't hate wedding, though.. I actually love them.
They sort of remind me of what I love and hate about life: Watching people in love share a special moment (though eating cake off of each other's noses gave me the creeps) ...and watching people drink themselves into oblivion reminds me of how many ways we can poison ourselves with manmade chemical concoctions.
But it's good to be back.
It was good to be back.. but what amazed me is how little anything changes. Same menu.. same curtains.. same rug. Sure, some of the more obscure things alter over time, but the big deals in a restaurant remain the same. And the customers? That's the same, too..
Let me preface the next part of this post with this this word of caution: I quit drinking this year. Full flat out quit drinking.. (an occasional glass of wine if I go out, but my consumption dropped 99.9% compared to how I was a bit of ago.) And months not into my quitting, my health has improved dramatically, along with my mood, and my mental presence. I sort of abhor what alcohol did to me, and what it robbed from me. I may talk a bit more in the future on SOUP ON MY FLY, but that will be it for now.
But... the people tonight at the wedding party sure didn't discover what alcohol has been doing to them. People younger than me looked about ten years older than me.. The bellies all were concealed at first. But after a big dinner of high fructose and salt, a few inches popped out. When the drinking games began and the dancing turned into a sloppy drunk fest of shoes flying and arms flailing, the guts burst from the underbelly like a volcano of liver spots.
It was brutal..
There were a few girls who, I thought, were fine. Attractive, I would even say.. A few hours into the wedding reception, their were attempting to stand up with a drink quivering in their hand.. they went from a size 0 to appearing pregnant. Their liver swelling up while they ingested more and more alcohol.. as though it was the end of time. They partied like it was 1999--while the awkward DJ actually played the Prince song.
Things don't change..
I saw a few people of local yocal fame that I knew from my late teens. Don't get me wrong, I am suffering the widow's peak of male baldness beginning, but when your nose is turning a bright shade of near purple and their bellies are protruding so far that they most likely can't even see themselves in their vicinity when they urinate, it just looks worse.
And that is that.
Along with chicken, turkey, and fish that ... sort of seemed extra fishy in the late summer.
It was good to be back, though.
It revived my deep pain of not having a restaurant, and made me convinced that serving food to people is both a blessing and a curse at the same time. It's yin and yang..
I dislike wedding rehearsal dinners. I enjoy being a server at funerals.. I don't hate wedding, though.. I actually love them.
They sort of remind me of what I love and hate about life: Watching people in love share a special moment (though eating cake off of each other's noses gave me the creeps) ...and watching people drink themselves into oblivion reminds me of how many ways we can poison ourselves with manmade chemical concoctions.
But it's good to be back.
