That Almost Ruined Our Dinner

When I have to fly out for work, Ron has been nice enough to give me door to door service to and from the airport. That is a tremendous help as I don’t have to walk the ten miles from the parking lot to the terminal and back. As an added bonus, we usually stop to get dinner on our way home from the airport on Friday nights.

Last Friday, my plane came in about 7:00 pm. By now, both of us are hungry but are still having that never ending argument “I don’t know, where do YOU want to go?” Finally, I made an executive decision to go to Applebee’s. I know that’s not one of Ron’s favorite places to go but I happen to love it here. I should learn to never choose Applebee’s again when Ron is with me. Something invariably happens and it’s never good.

This time, Ron and I both ordered steaks. They are Applebee’s featured special at the moment. I went for medium and Ron chose medium rare. When our steaks arrived, mine was cooked as ordered, but poor Ron’s was way over done. It leaned a lot closer to medium well than medium rare. He did send his steak back to be done again and the poor guy waited. I guess I’m not a good girlfriend, as I ate my steak in front of me while he watched. Until . . .

The sounds of regurgitation were coming from the table across the aisle and one more back behind Ron. Come to find out, when the girl across the aisle started to cut into her steak and saw all of the blood, she lost it, and I mean that literally. Her boyfriend was a stand up guy and immediately got up to shield her as best he could from the rest of the restaurant while keeping a comforting hand on her shoulder and telling her to catch her breath. All well and good for her, but it did nothing for our appetites watching her throw up over her dinner. Or actually on her dinner. Blech.

After a couple of trips to the ladies room, she finally got herself under control. During one of those trips, when the waitress went to their table to see what was wrong, luckily the heaving girl was in the bathroom. Her date showed the server just how bloody that steak was, and that looking at it made his date sick. Like I said, it didn’t do much for me, either.

In the end, I think what happened is that she ended up with Ron’s steak and he had the one intended for her. Either way, if I was that squeamish about blood, I don’t think I’d be ordering steak any time soon. At least they comped Ron’s meal. Maybe I should have thrown up too and we could have had an entire dinner on the house.

And on the table.

And on the carpet.