Casa Nada

Would you like a table near the gas leak?

Last night, we went out to our favorite Mexican restaurant to celebrate hubby's birthday.  All day, we were dreaming of margaritas and crab enchiladas.  Our reservation was for 6:30.  We left our car with the valet and went inside.  Our conversation with the spacey gal in charge went something like this:  "Hi, we have a reservation." "Uh-huh."  "We'd like a booth."  "Oh, okay."  "So... can we be seated?" "Ummmm."  At this point, she walked away.  Hubby and I exchanged our classic "what the eff is wrong with that chick?" look.  There was a weird vibe in the casa. And a lot of empty tables. A minute later, she returned. "Yeah, so, we have no gas." "You're kidding."  "We have a gas leak or something."  "No way." "Yeah, so, we can't cook any food." "Wonderful.""But you're welcome to have drinks, salad and dessert." "What's in the salad?" "Lettuce.""But it's my husband' s birthday." "Aw." "We didn't come here for a plate of lettuce." "Uh-huh." "So, adios." By 6:35, we were back in our car.  By 7:00, we were home, eating delicious Mexican take-out and drinking hubby's kick-ass margaritas.  By 7:30, I was good and schnockered. Sometimes, it's just better to improvise.