What could be better than a memorable evening of family fun?
Well, family fun minus most of the family, anyway.
There’s nothing like a bit of quality adult time, where you can sit back and enjoy a drink.
Or, you know, none.
Ever been someplace where the service was so painfully slow that you almost forgot why you left home in the first place?
Welcome to Main Event, a so-called family entertainment place where you can eat and play!
At least in theory, anyway.
If you ever want to ensure you don’t overindulge in alcohol (or anything else, for that matter), Main Event is the place for you!
At any rate, my husband DJ and I decided it would be nice to take my brother in-law Mike out for a fun night while he was in town.
Main Event seemed like a good idea, and I’d been there many times before with the kids.
But only to play games rather than to eat.
If the comical pairing of bull riding on a 110-inch tv with Lady Gaga blaring over the speakers was any indication, it was undoubtedly going to be a memorable night.
I started off with a Bahama Mama, and DJ ordered beer.
Mike made the mistake of asking our young waitress if they make White Russians.
A little food for thought-
When your waitress asks you what exactly goes into the drink you’re about to order, just remember two things:
- You are not the bartender, and it is not your job to be a walking encyclopedia of alcoholic concoctions unless you are getting paid to make that drink yourself.
- The bartender will probably be using you as their experimental lab rat, so do yourself a favor and order something else. From the menu.
I get that mixed drinks can take a few minutes to…
But how long does it take to pour freaking draft beer?
Were these people growing fresh fruit for the cocktails out back?
Painstakingly harvesting wheat for the beer?
Our delightful waitress finally brought our drinks out half an hour later.
Mine might’ve been a Bahama Mama…
But it took so damn long to get there, I couldn’t be sure if that’s what it really was, or just Kool-Aid spiked with a touch of rum.
Mike’s White Russian had a disproportionate amount of vodka.
Could’ve been worse, I suppose.
Hopefully it was the good stuff, at least.
More bang for your buck, right?
We’d also ordered onion rings, which arrived shortly before the drinks.
Minus any plates, napkins, or utensils.
We stared and stared at the onion rings.
A few moments passed before we redirected our intensely disgusted gazes in the direction of the bartender before DJ got up and demanded plates and napkins.
Our ditzy waitress came over a few minutes later.
Oh, so that’s why you needed plates!
Come on, did we look like complete savages?
Plates and napkins are somewhat of a necessity when it comes to eating.
Especially in a restaurant, for crying out loud.
Unless you’re a child.
But we didn’t bring the kids, so I was kind of planning to eat like a civilized human being that evening, thank you very much.
A different waitress arrived at our table with a large tray containing our entrées a while later.
We watched in disbelief as she dropped off my hummus and vegetable platter and DJ’s steak…
And then she looked at the remaining entrée, looked at Mike, looked back at the entrée…
And then took off like a possessed hamburger-snatcher.
We continued to watch in part curiosity, part horror as she strolled aimlessly from table to table with that hamburger before returning wordlessly to our table.
What the hell?
Perhaps that’s why our drinks had taken so ridiculously long.
Maybe this other waitress had gulped them down.
All of them.
Then Mike asked for ranch dressing.
We started taking bets on how long it would take for the dressing to materialize.
I contemplated ordering another drink, but then thought better of it.
We were ready to get out of there.
But our waitress was nowhere to be found.
DJ set the timer on his phone to five minutes.
Five minutes until we were going to bolt out of there like a trio of bandits?
I can’t be sure.
Finally, DJ about had it.
He stormed over to the front desk to see if they could be bothered with something so trivial as allowing us the honor of paying for that bizarre dining experience.
Perhaps we should’ve run out of there.
That isn’t something I’d ever done before, nor could I do anything like that in good conscientiousness.
We finally moved on to the games.
I over-enthusiastically whacked some moles.
DJ and Mike played a few intense rounds of Rambo.
Then Mike moved on to a game where he got to repeatedly kick the crap out of a soccer ball.
I think it’s safe to say we all had a tiny bit of pent up aggression from our dining experience.
We all needed a break.
And what we got was a good laugh.
Along with a fairly good idea of where never again to go for dinner.
~Happy Friday, everyone! Hope you’ve had a terrific week, with an even more fabulous weekend on the way!~
Why so sad, little drink? Is it because you’ve been waiting so long to be served that you’re crying tears of condensation? Yeah, me too.