Haggis New Year!

On New Year's Eve, my beloved wife and me decided that we would have a nice meal and then retire to our neighbour's home for a quiet, WII-filled celebration. It was low-key and easy compared to the more exciting days of youth. But at this point it's a perfectly acceptable option for toasting away the decade that was the single digits.

We failed to make a reservation for dinner at any of the finer restaurants in town. So after some banter we decided to venture across the city to an Italian chain restaurant that serves a fine steak for the money- Carraba's Italian Grill. For anyone who has not tried the Filet or Sirloin, do it. It's a great, great meal in spite of not being a traditional steakhouse. And better than some steak house steaks in my humble opinion. I digress.

Anyway our drive to the restaurant was fine; there was minimal traffic given that it was the 6 o'clock hour. The restaurant had a crowd but the wait was not ridiculous. So we took a seat in the lobby alongside a few other parties and the usual waiting game began. This is where my New Year's Eve ceased being like any other. The waiting game shifted to something very different- it became peachy, wrinkled.

A woman walked into the restaurant; she was in black garb complete with a purse covered in skulls and crossbones. Her dark hair was short and appeared to be colored even darker black than what was probably a nice auburn or brunette color. She was a good-sized lady who clearly embraced her plus-sized frame. A moment later she was joined by a man who was at least 6 feet tall and somewhere in the territory of 275lb (perhaps even a 300 pounder); Lisa remarked that he looked like a wrestler. He had a bald head and a red goatee. His appearance matched his partner's in pride and volume. This was a huge dude - a huge dude in black boots, black coat and a pride-plaided kilt! Lisa remarked that they were probably going to have a nice Italian meal before enjoying the New Year at O'Shea's or some other pub in town. A likely plan in my opinion- an evening that I am certain I too would enjoy.

We watched quietly observing. They talked for minute or two whilst others waited to be seated until two seats opened on the bench opposite us. Like a true gentleman he motioned to the seats and his lady walked to take a seat with him following. She sat. And then he stepped to her left, turned around to face us and sat straight down. He sat like a strong man- a man with real posture. He sat like a man wearing a pair of pants. But he wasn't. No he was not wearing pants. He was wearing a kilt. A kilt that clearly fit him far better at 240 pounds. The man skirt rose with the straightness of his spine and underneath there was no thong or tighty whities. Nope. The noble Scot was a traditional lad. And his red-headed, wrinkly ballsack greeted the Davis family. Lisa's head snapped to the right with whiplash speed. My eyes diverted like Chandler Bing in a familiar Friends episode. The only difference being that shift of focus apparently came with an involuntary vocal response.

"Ohhmahgoodness..."

It was apparently loud enough for them to hear because out of the corner of my eye I saw his position change complete with a hand on his no longer bare lap. The goth, big girl seemed to go a tad pink under her powdered cheeks. Lisa was silent. I was mute. And no one dared to make eye contact with anyone. The damage was done. We had seen his scrotum. His Andre Haggisie. The only saving grace was that the sausage did not appear with the potatoes.

Shortly thereafter a young blonde girl greeted us with menus and took us to our meal. We walked directly past the couple still not looking at one another. The couple eventually took their seats a few tables from us. And he faced the other direction. Thank goodness.

Needless to say, we had our steak for New Year's Eve dinner. But we had some haggis first.

Cheers!