The Redneck and I have made a resolution we can stick with: Eat at the Hampton Road's Magazine's Top 10 Restaurants. Both of us love to eat. And cook. And eat some more. So why not combine eating with a relationship renewal? We decided to begin at No. 10 and work our way up.
Last night we declared game on with Salacia, in the oceanfront Hilton. Here's what dining at the No. 10 restaurant is like with a partially reformed Redneck...
It began by Jasen climbing into my 4Runner with three beers down and one in hand. Twenty minutes later we're stuck in unmoving traffic headed from Chesapeake to the beach. Not exactly the best beginning with a man whom cusses at someone driving a half-mile under the speed limit.
So we ditch the interstate and opt for Shore Drive. I can't help but think about all of the fatal accidents on that road, and wonder why. Jasen decides he has to pee. Immediately. I tell him he's a 34-year-old man, and can hold it for 10 minutes. Our reservations are at 6:30 p.m. We're 15 minutes away from the Hilton. It's 6:28 p.m.. You do the math, because apparently he couldn't.
Apparently my husband cannot hold it, because he takes my perfectly good bottle of Dasani and dumps it out the window, preparing it for a true Redneck potty break. I will absolutely not have my husband urinate in my water bottle, in my new car. Especially after he's lost the top.
So I pull over. And he hikes it into the woods. Nice. Predictable. Hilarious, and much better than the last time we visited the Hilton for a formal event, where he peed in the parking lot. And on his suit. But I digress.
we're a bit late, but no worries. We're sat between two couples. Jasen has no idea the matre' d will place a napkin in his lap. Too funny. I'm pushing him to try the Kobe. But at $65 for a piece of meat with no sides, he's just too chicken. So cowboy steak it is. I'm up for the rockfish, since I'm still trying to lose a few pounds and really don't cook anything but salmon at the house. I, too, am a chicken every now and then.
One absolutely, perfectly indulgent martini later, and I'm a happy girl. the couple to my right receives their appetizer, and Jasen begins to lean over.
And when I say lean over, we're talking crossing the 3-foot personal space line, here.
"Whatcha got?" "Jasen, let them eat their dinner." "Babe! Let me talk. I wanna know what they got." I blush, and he continues. "Whatcha got? Whatja order? Whya here...what's the occasion?" Good lord. Here we go.
This lovely couple is wearing a Christmas tie, and Christmas sweater. They're here because they have $65 in coupons. I'm looking at the menu, and wishing I had $65 in coupons. And they're awesome.
Before I know it, the younger couple to my left has their dinner. The wife is talkative like me. Her husband, quiet, staring down, his face inches from his plate. Obviously blind. Unfortunately, not obviously blind to Jasen. Wait for that one to bite me in the ass later.
"Whatcha got? Whya here?" "Jasen! seriously! What the hell, man?" "Babe! I'm just making conversation!"
Again, this couple rocks. The wife actually hands Jasen a plate with a bite of creamed spinach on it. Which he later orders. They're from Connecticut. Her father has had a stroke, and they're taking a break from the hospital.
By the end of the dinner, I have shared my swordfish with her, hugged her, and told both couples about my grandparents, how Jasen and I met, and know so much about each couple I feel like I've known them for years. it didn't matter that my fish wasn't the best I've ever had. That my S'mores cake was absolutely awesome and now sitting on my thighs. That the check was $135. Our dinner was one of the best we've ever had, because my husband didn't listen to me. We had a party of six. And it was amazingly unforgettable.
We're all ready to leave, and the couple to my left, the younger one with the quiet husband, get ready to leave. She hands him his folded cane, which Jasen doesn't notice. He whips it into place, and my husband basically jumps into his new friend's lap. "What the hell is that? What the hell are you gonna do with that?"
The wife chuckles "he's blind." "Seriously, Jasen. Good lord." But the husband smiles sweetly. And say they love us.
They leave, and the couple beside us burst into laughter. The wife knew he was blind. The husband, no idea.
We picked up Juni, and both of my men were asleep before we hit the interstate. I drove home, smiling and listening to Enya. It was a perfect night. And worth every penny, because of my Redneck Husband.
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