Chapter 1
From what I understand, the food here is supposed to be great. At least that’s what the Internet said. But judging from the situation I am in, things are checking out. Not every place in town has a line out the door and a ridiculous seating time on a Sunday evening in the middle of winter. I’ve been sitting at my table for at least 30 minutes and haven’t even gotten a glass of water. I am mildly annoyed, but I remind myself that this is in fact a worthwhile investment.
Now please don’t judge me for what I am about to say. As my memory recollects, I cannot remember everything that I ate or how it tasted aside from this being a net positive experience. It’s impossible for me to imagine what kind of discussion I had with my fiance at the time. What an immense contradiction to be displaced from the very reasons one would bring themselves here in the first place.
It’s just one of those things where you’re waiting and your mind starts wandering. The kind of restaurant that overruns the senses. It starts with touch. The place is so cramped but it’s just an overweight woman with a purse hanging off her back like a portaledge. “Sorry” she says. Ok whatever. Then the smells. Your nose follows the trace of the last good thing the waiter walked by and you’re wondering, no, hoping that it was yours. Up until you remind yourself that you haven’t even ordered yet.
And then there are the sights. Briefly forgetting who I am dining with, my eyes squint towards the potentially sexy exotic girl from somewhere, but at this point it’s really a reach because I didn’t bring my glasses. Still I’m wondering if she came with friends or a guy. I can’t really talk about taste, unless you’re wondering how my dry famished mouth is doing while we wait for service.
This brings us to the final sense and the highlight of the evening. Sounds. In a cramped bustling place things like conversations become lost in the mix. It’s like looking at a random star in the sky, blinking and never finding it again. But then there it is. My north star. The guiding light of the evening. That loud obnoxious annoying valley girl accent. Piercing through the slurry of sounds of a busy restaurant in Chicago.
This blonde, a B minus at best, is sitting with these two guys. They are sporting striped muscle tees and filling those babies up real nice. Sans the muscles. One had yellow stripes and the other had blue. I guess you could say they were matching. In volume. As they were presented to the restaurant about…..you guessed it, money, cars, and careers. At this point I am trying to figure out which one of these she banged, is banging, or wants to bang. The only confirmed fact is they both want to bang her. I look at my fiance and we silently agree that this is a case that we cannot let go cold.
At this point I am famished. It’s been thirty since our orders were taken. It’s a mild relief so that I have a distraction to help pass the time. Or maybe these guys are just too damn loud. Looking over at the neighboring tables, I know we are in for a treat, if and when our food finally arrives. These communal tables foster a mild sense of anxiety. Stuck wondering on your food accidentally going to the wrong person, and if it’s something that takes an hour to make…. Well then I’d be screwed. I’ve already got harder decisions to make; debating if another beer is worth the possibility to piss in a crappy restroom. Add in a side of hangry wife and my night is good as done. But I must refocus as there is a case to be solved and it requires my immediate attention.
The threesome conversation starts escalating to a one up game. Time to place the bets. The current line of thought is that neither of them have tasted her forbidden fruit yet. This girl is going to milk that friend zone dry. A few months of dinners, drinks, and parties. They will introduce her to the most important people they know, until the most important people they know will now be the most important people she knows. Eventually she won’t know the boys.
I think I caught her name. Sara. Sara the Slut, but I guess she is not a slut if she ain’t gonna let them nut. Why buy the cow when you can pay for it weekly. I mean good for her right. She be winning. Sara the Savage might be a more fitting moniker given the situation, besides it’s wrong of me to assume these two would want anything above companionship. Can’t say I didn’t have a friend I paid for at some point in my life.
“Here you go sir, fried pig ears with Kale.” The waitress kindly presented. At this moment I am beyond relieved and flash her the thumbs up. Pointing to my nearly empty cup, the universal signal for filler up the waitress nods.
Now that was worth the wait. The crunch of the kale, and the thinly sliced pig ears was savory as can be. My soon to be wife is picky as hell, but she must have been on death’s door because she ate the shit out of that dish. Jack Spratt’s wife could eat no ears and eat no greens, but together we licked those plates clean. Such a fleeting moment when dishes come out one at a time.
We glanced at each other and smirked as it was time to once again chime in to the reality show happening just a few feet away. As the drunkenness ensued, the conversation started to circle and repeat much like a cassette tape on repeat flipping from A to B.
“Hey Sara, you know the school I went to talked all about finances. My prof was so admirable. Bro was driving a lambo even though he was in school.,” Blue Stripe slurred.
“Well I didn’t have any professors like that. I guess you guys had some great influences. How old was he when you were there?” Genuinely sounding interested, Sara replied.
“Oh he was young, that guy was the man.” Yellow Stripe continued to feed the beast. Her eyes glistened with focus. This girl is good, I thought to myself.
“Well maybe I can meet him one day.” She gently suggested.
“Yeah, then you will see how we run with good people. The kind of people that make moves.” Blue blurted out. “I would say I wanna be like him, but we already are. Just a little behind because you know we are a little younger.”
“I’m pretty sure we’re better off than he was at our age,” Yellow confidently responded. Sara’s face lost some aura with those comments, but she let out a small smirk with her lower lip protruding and a slight nod.
I look across the table to see my fiance’s eyes processing the things she is hearing. Now given she is a lot more innocent and demure than so-called Savage Sara, but even she is figuring this out.
And now it’s time for a regularly scheduled food break. Thankfully the next dish comes along and it’s just as good as the first. Juicy bursts of flavor out of these sweet and savory house made sausages. This constant tease between tapas leaves you delighted for a moment, but never quite satisfied. What a lethal business move.
Looking at my watch we have been here for more than an hour and I am a beer and two nibbles deep. I am stuck in a minor conundrum. Not sure if I really want to know what happens to the end of the thruple story, but with the long waits in between the dishes make it hard. Can I just be fed and satisfied? I want to mind my own business, but I just can’t. Why is this so amusing? It’s not my fault they are so loud.
At some point we got oysters, chicken, and I don’t know what else. The food lost some of its meaning in the midst of the story that was unfolding to the left of me.
“I got the tab, cuz you know I got the flow for it.” Blue said.
“Oh yeah, this is so cheap. Like what a deal for Chicago.” Yellow fired back.
“Yeah you can get the next spot. Where are we headed everyone?”, asked Blue.
“Well thank you guys for the drinks and food. I really appreciate it.” Said the savage one. “I am actually kind of tired and I think I’m just gonna head home and finish this book I have been reading. But don’t forget that you should introduce me to your professor someday.” Her smile and posture briefly brought back to life.
“You sure? My treat. Well if not that’s ok. I guess I’m kind of tired too,” Yellow’s voice fizzled. They got up and started heading out. I couldn’t hear what they were saying as they left, but right outside the door was that awkward pause. Right about now, I was kind of rooting for them. Most of us not fortunate enough to be outstanding or distinguished have been led on and rejected before. My empathy for humanity might have just kicked in. A few more bursts of awkward smiles, laughter, and hugs. They broke off in their separate ways.
I look at my fiance with the biggest grin on my face. She has the same look. Our own excitement masking the guilt of eaves dropping. While the food to my knowledge was quite fantastic, it was overshadowed by the performance of life that happened right in front of us. I lean over and ask her “So do you think either of them ever had a chance?” Her facial expression told me everything I needed to know.
It’s been years since this happened, and I still wonder if Blue and Yellow went home to their xboxes or doubled down at the next watering hole. And did Sara ever sleep with, I mean meet with their professor with the lambo? Are they still friends? Not sure why I care, but you if you were there you would too!
If you ever get a chance, I’d highly recommend a visit to the Purple Pig. Certainly quite the experience.
