Every now and then, Z and I like to sneak out on a Friday
evening and get a jump on the weekend.
We actually put on disguises, complete with dark glasses,
wigs and beards, so as not to be caught.
Okay, I’m kidding about that part…only Z puts on the beard.
You might think this is kind of an odd thing to do, these
disguises, but what can I say…we just like to keep our personal business to
ourselves.
Well, it’s mostly me…not Z.
Z says she doesn’t owe anybody any money, so she’s doesn’t
care what people think. I’m not sure, at all, what that means but she tells me
this is something her mom used to say, so it must mean something.
I’ve learned, over the years, not to argue with that kind of
logic, so we’ll leave it at that.
But I think it might have something to do with me.
Anyway, I guess you’re thinking I’m a little paranoid.
Maybe…but better to be safe than sorry.
You know….
Not that our neighbors keep a watchful eye out for our
comings and goings; they all pretty much keep to themselves, too.
Well, except for the guy down on the adjacent corner who I
suspect has a camera equipped with a long telescopic lens set up in his back
window.
Or the woman in the house behind us who I’m convinced is
using one of those big parabolic microphones to listen in on the conversations
I have with myself.
Or the kid next door who is highjacking my internet
connection and stealing at all of my personal information and reading all my
blogs before I have a chance to post them.
Not that I mind him grabbing a sneak peek, but I resent all
the revisions.
So, where was I?
Oh, yeah…Z and I sneaking out on a Friday night.
We went up to a local Pizza place in Greenwich that we’ve
been known to frequent on occasion over the last decade or two.
There’s no set schedule as to when we go…so don’t be getting
any ideas about following us there. We tend to mix up our routine just to avoid
that kind of situation.
Plus you wouldn’t recognize us anyway, even if you did. You know, because of the wig and the beard.
I know…I’m getting a little off topic again.
I’m just saying…can’t
be too careful.
We’ve been going to this little out of the way pizza joint
since sometime in the 90s. It doesn’t
seem that long ago, but these days nothing seems like “that long ago”.
You know…because of the Russians.
We’re actually on our third owners there.
Not that any of the new owners have changed anything about
the place except for some fresh paint and a few new menu enhancements throughout
the years.
It’s just one of those quirky little spots with an eclectic
décor, menu and clientele that you really can’t improve on.
Anyway, I’m a little disappointed to say that this current
ownership is still not up to speed yet, in the area of running one of our
favorite places, even though they’ve been around now for well over a year.
Just little things like, except for picking up the tips, they’re
pretty slow to clean up vacated tables or remembering to bring us menus, let
alone wait on us.
I mean yeah, it was a Friday, so it was a little busy but I
don’t think it’s unreasonable to expect to be served a glass of wine and a bottle
of beer within the first half hour of sitting down.
Sure, I always require the waitress sample my drink for
toxins first, but c’mon.
And even with the e-coli screening, should we really have to
wait 45 minutes for our medium veggie pizza to arrive, which, after it finally
appeared, looked mysteriously like a small?
When we complained, that we had ordered a medium pizza, and
not a small, the waitress told us that it was just on a large tray, which made
it look small.
I don’t know…I suppose she might have had a point, but I’m
pretty sure that a medium pizza is somewhat larger than the old 45 rpm of “Sugar
Sugar” by the Archies, that I wear around my neck…you know, because it jams all
the ultra-sonic frequencies coming from the surveillance satellites.
The new owner noticed we were a little dissatisfied with our
order and once he finished updating his Facebook page, came over to our table
and offered to make it up to us by bringing us one of his grandmother’s
homemade meatballs. He said they were fantastic, and I have to say that they
were. However, his grandmother wasn’t quite finished eating them yet and was
understandably annoyed, shooting us the stink eye the rest of the night.
So that was uncomfortable.
But it’s just that kind of place.
All in all we spent an enjoyable 4 or 5 hours…waiting for
the check to arrive and once it did we were pleased to see that they only
charged us for the medium pizza once instead of twice…and Grandma’s meatballs
were only half price.
But that’s okay…I paid with the phony credit card that I
always use to avoid having my “real” identity stolen when I see the black SUVs
parked across the street.
Not that I use it all that often.
But let’s just say Mr. Alfred E. Neuman has been very good
to me.
I laughed throughout this MAD retort, especially when I came to: "You know - because of the Russians." Oh it's so good to be paranoid - things get pretty funny. Next time you go to that pizza place, bring a good book along, like War and Peace, which is what my doctor recommended when I complained about the 2-hour wait. And the crummy, decade-old magazines in the waiting room.
ReplyDeleteGlad you’re laughing. I could probably write War & Peace II while I'm waiting. And I like decade old magazines…they make me feel smart cuz I already know the answers and the endings.
ReplyDeleteI hope you change the names in W&P so they are more pronounceable. And list the cast of characters in the back of the book because it is so hard to keep track of them. Or abandon the whole thing and rely on old Mad magazines.
ReplyDelete