A couple nights ago, my favorite food critic took a friend and me out to a fancy dinner. And, oh, what a great time we had. We gorged on goat and scallops and sweetbreads and more! (At least now my
impending-gout will have been worth it.)
"How 'bout we three grab a quick cocktail after this?" Food Critic asks.
"Of course!" New Friend and I decide, effortlessly.
We travel uptown a bit and are happy and chatty in the cab.
"Oh, how lucky we are," we think, naively.We arrive: an over-priced, swanky lounge -- just the thing to top off an excessive dinner.
We walk through those beautiful doors -- they may have parted for us, inexplicably -- and into the gilded first room. We peek in.
Crowded, but, oh well, nothing will ruin this night.We head in further, ready for some sweet, sweet bartender to mix us a sweet, sweet drink, when:
OH NO, duck, Grice! Who is tha...is it...nooooo...y? yea? And is he wi.....? No!Yes! That's when it became a Dark (K)Night, and it reminded me of the restaurant scene in "The Dark Knight."
2 comments:
Dent was at 250 52nd street. That's a block away from where I live; I could have saved him.
Goat meat is the best kind. Matters deeply how it is cooked though.
:-)
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