Atheist Meditations

What I did on my birthday
by Aurelius Wolf

Yesterday was my birthday. At first I was sad to be so old. Then I got inspired, blogged for a while, and then went out with my girlfriend. It was cold outside. We drove her little red mazda.

At first our intentions were to see a blues singer that I'd heard earlier in the week on KFAI out at a bar and grill in Eagan. Usually, I don't like going to the suburbs for dining, but I'd never heard of Axel's and so I thought they might be a diamond in the rough where the less expensive property was being utilized to bring some class to the poor, unfortunate souls who dwell in the land of franchises and strip malls. I was mistaken. In a parking lot filled with SUV's and W bumper stickers I felt the familiar revulsion at the suburban existence clutch at my soul. This was one of these 'bonfire' chains that I'd seen from time to time. Just a big new barn with the wood burning schtick and the vulgar displays of luxury. In my formor incarnation I worked at too many places like that. The food would be good but merely novel variations of a theme. Most of my conversations with servers would be scripted and hollow. Everything would be overpriced and my fellow diners would seem to believe that said mark-up indicated Quality. I never even got to the front door before I told Cindy that this place looked to me like it blew. I hope the fella that sings there on Friday nights does O.K., and I hate to be so judgemental, but all the little indicators I absorbed as I prepared to enter this establishment rubbed me the wrong way.

We hiked back to the car and headed down Cliff rd. to a place in Eagan where my pal Jay and I often have a few beers before we go and see a movie (he lives down in this area, and I do have to admit I prefer the stadium seating of newer theatres.) Called Doolittles, the joint used to have all sorts of model airplanes hanging on the walls, and I never asked anybody but in my fantasy world this was not a corporate chain - just a fun place to go every once in a while that was a lot like an Applebee's (whose food I wouldn't feed to dogs) or a Fridays' (much better quality, still just still too corporate chainey to dig.) So Doolittles was a good place to take my less opinionated friends and family, so they could get the TGIFesque experience that advertising told them dining should be like, but I didn't have to suppress my disdain for the franchise model.

As cruel fate would have it, Doolittle's had just remodeled, complete with a burning bonfire in the front lawn and a firey rotisserie in the foyer. Cindy and I were pretty damn cold by the time we got in the door, they told us twenty-five minutes and I nodded to her that I'd be willing to endure it. Then they gave us a pager, and I lost it - very little food is worth waiting twenty five minutes for and standing there holding a big pager is just classless.

Cindy affirmed my love for her by putting up with my rediculous drama without complaint. We marched back out into the cold night and icy parkinglots.

Determined to land on my feet, I took a left on Cliff and drove a litte further to the southwest into Burnsville, the land where I dissipated much of my youth. Near the cornor of Cliff and 13 lay such nostalgic gems as: my formor apartment, the Denny's I once cooked at, the site of my first physical confrontation with police officers, and Stephano's Italian Restaurant. I hadn't been down there in five to seven years, but for the longest time this was my go-to place for impressing the phillies. 'Step two', as I used to refer call it.

Suffice to say, at a little after eight there was no waiting. I almost hesitate to blog about it any more, as here is a point where we as diners find our interests diverging from the restauranter's. They would prefer that their business always be slammed with paying customers to maximize profits, I'd prefer a place that does well yet does not have to give me a pager. We were there a little past peak, and it was nice to just get a smile at the door and be lead directly to a seat.

Stephano's remained that diamond in the rough I so pleasantly remembered. Quality food. Respectable wine list. The little details like elegantly long dessert spoons and heavy, woven tablecloths. Our food was excellent.

Third times the charm. It was my damned birthday and I just didn't feel like I should have to settle for the appearance of quality - esp. when Cindy was buy'n.