Middle Class

So Brad and I usually try to go out to a fancy shmancy restaurant two or three times a year. Last night was such the occasion in celebration of our 6th anniversary. Every time we go to a super nice place,...we are reminded that we are simply not "high class". To start off the evening we casually walked in with not one, but two infant car seats in our hands {pretty sure you shouldn't bring any sort or children in a place like this, but I am too protective to leave them yet}. We sit and start glancing at the menu. What's up with the menu?! Can't even pronounce a word on it! Where are the bright colorful pictures that make us salivate? The entertaining graphics? Where is a menu like,..like,...Red Robin's?! Instead, its a plain linen menu, black and white, in a boring font, with words we don't understand, and usually without prices! LAME-O! The waiter starts to explain the specials of the night. I smile and nod acting like they sound delicious {in reality I have no idea what "crispy polenta Prosciutto" is}. Anyways, we start by ordering water {which I really prefer, but it immediately make the waiter roll his eyes}, then he offers wine {well we don't drink alcohol so it's always no to that too}. He walks off to let us look it over. We talk about sharing {Nah, that wouldn't fly in a place like this}. He returns..... Appetizer? {We look at each other in question to make it look as if we are indifferent before mumbling....Nah.} Starter Salad {for 8.00?,...Nah!} By this time the waiter has totally figured us out....his table is shot! Finally, we take a stab at ordering our main dish, usually by just pointing to it on the menu so we don't slaughter the pronunciation. We have NO idea what we've just ordered. Only the basic part,...like chicken, or pasta. The rest of the words are foreign so we never can envision what the dish will actually look like until it is brought to us. Then we wait, with fingers crossed. Meanwhile we ease drop on "high class" conversations and talk about their conversations as we inhale the complimentary bread placed in the middle of the table {only 4-5 measly pieces}. Finally our mystery meal arrives. Before the waiter leaves he asks if we would like more bread {again we look at each other in question to act like we are indifferent before spouting out, "YES PLEASE!"}. We grab any one of the 7 utensils set before us and start eating suspiciously. Whew {sigh of relief}! We got lucky,..it is divine,..and portioned bigger than the usual 1/4 of a cup. We eat every last bite, and manage to soak up any extra sauce with our extra bread we just asked for. The waiter comes back in shock as he looks at our cleaned plates and asks "Dessert?" Well,...just so the waiter doesn't think we are pathetic, I quickly say
"of course" {while ignoring Brad's pinches under the table}. After the spendy dessert is devoured we get the bill. $75.00?! No worries,....I reach into my purse with pride and pull out my coupon {tada}. Oh boy!---Maybe we should just stick with Cracker Barell? Happy Anniversary Hon. Here's to being Middle Class! ;)