Fa Ra Ra Ra Ra

Cupid aims. He shoots. He ricochets. It seems to me he could benefit from a refresher course in archery. How long is his license good for anyway? Doesn't he ever have to renew it?

Aside from Cupid's unintentional misfires, Thaus and I know we can never make plans together. There is a cosmic force in our universe which prohibits us from having two seconds alone together. We pushed our luck one day with 1.5 seconds. Don't ask. It was ugly.

Welcome to February 13, 2010. A run-of-the-mill Saturday which happened to be the day before Cupid's big holiday. Thaus and I do not go to any extremes to celebrate the annual day o'love. However, we decided to tempt fate this year and set a "date".

Picked yourself up off the floor yet?

We didn't plan anything elaborate or time consuming. Nothing adventurous. Nothing reeking of overly priced department store perfume. We simply reserved two hours (with time factored in for driving) to sit in a crowded theater ogling beautiful Hollywood stars and eating buttery popcorn with 500 strangers. Yes, we were going to the movies! We happen to enjoy movies. We can't remember the last time we saw one together.

Thaus was scheduled to be off work at 4 p.m. sharp. We were scheduled to meet friends for the 5:30 showing of the ever-so-appropriately-titled holiday flick Valentine's Day. 4:15 comes and goes. 4:30. 4:45. 5:00. It is becoming apparent to me Thaus' detainment is not temporary. He hasn't phoned. It's not snowing outside. There have been no power outages. What the heck is going on?

Hours later, Thaus staggers into the house, looking a little worse for wear and apologizing profusely for our ruined afternoon escape. He was unable to phone me because he had clients pouring into the store after hours and lingering for no other reason than to waste his precious time. I had guessed this was the scenario, hence the predictable reaction of my insides which screamed impolite defamations during the previous two hours... Can't these people read? Don't they know the store is closed? Don't they know people are trying to celebrate here? Don't they know I haven't had a date in three years? Don't they know they are being rude and inconsiderate and stealing the only two hours of sanity I will have in a three-month period of time? Can't they feel my vibes of frustration? Do they not notice the holes I am boring into their backsides?!

Intent on salvaging what I could of our date, I offered a backup plan. I blurted out the first thing that came to mind, "Let's go eat!". Where? Oh yeah, this might prove a little difficult being a holiday weekend. Not to worry, though. There has to be something open without a four-hour wait attached.

Enter T-Bone. A back roads' truck stop which dons a larger-than-life neon dragon atop a Chinese/American eatery. We knew we were in for an adventure when we pulled off the paved road for this little gem. Can't wait to see what's inside.



Thaus and I found an unoccupied booth in the larger of the two dining rooms and settled in with our good friends Mike and Melo. To the front of us loomed a menacing 70s style floor-to-ceiling lava rock fireplace and to the rear of us rested a Shopko "blue light special" utility table with a granite slab thrown over top. Thaus and I mused, "That table must be reserved for the really special guests."

Dusty red ornamentation greeted us from every angle and I couldn't help but notice the yellowing Wall of Stars (famous people who have supposedly dined in this grand eatery) on the far side of the bar. I felt a little overdressed for my surroundings and I am sure Thaus would have blended into the background had he stopped shaving a month or two ago.



Our chipper American waitress of about 22 came to greet our hungry ensemble. Without hesitation, I asked her if she would serenade us with Christmas carols. Her eyes did not betray the confused look upon her face as she asked for clarification. The table and I shared a hearty laugh when I exclaimed how the charm of this place reminded me of the Chinese restaurant featured in the final scenes of A Christmas Story. With the festive ambiance surrounding us, I thought Deck the Halls seemed appropriate.



In a Chinese American restaurant, guests are presented with a plethora of entree selections. Patrons may choose fried food, baked food, or grilled food. Weighing the options carefully, we decided upon various extremes. Thaus ordered pork wontons, ham fried rice, and halibut fish 'n chips. Mike and Melo ordered two kinds of bloody steaks. I ordered "grilled" crusted halibut. When the waitress asked me which dressing I would prefer atop my salad, I automatically replied, "balsamic vinaigrette". Cue a second round of hearty laughs. The waitress sheepishly informed me that T-Bone does not offer balsamic vinaigrette but she could pour some oil on my salad if I preferred. I deliberated as to which kind of oil she was referring to, so I asked her to bring me some on the side. I have heard of crude oil. I have now experienced the taste of it as well.

I am afraid I might require instruction as to proper etiquette when dining in a truck stop Chinese restaurant. Mike thought I should ask for some Grey Poupon upon arrival of our entrees, yet something deep inside (and slightly on the surface) hinted to his unassuming sarcasm. There is something to be said for persons of refinement, and there is also something to be said for mocking refinement. Whichever category I may fall into, I am glad for comic relief. It keeps my mouth busy so my eyes don't wander to the dusty light fixtures and bulge upon peripheral capture of dusty patrons. Whiskey Pete and Honkytonk Willie dine at T-Bone. If the food is good enough for them, it has to be good enough for us them. Fa Ra Ra Ra Ra...Ra Ra Ra Ra...