The restaurant is billed as quiet and romantic, and I suppose if I were to look at a snapshot of its interior, I too would say so. But when actually animated, the place was as quiet and romantic as a trip to the Gap.
"Good morning, sir! Can I help you find something? No? How about now? Okay, if you have any questions, I'll be standing right next to you, quite possibly on your foot. How about now? Now? Now?"
I don't know if the restaurant thought I was a food critic or what, but every staff member felt obliged to introduce themselves, their history, and that of the restaurant. I knew that our waiter was a born-again Christian who's dating a Mormon and oh-my-gosh-how-is-that-ever-going-to-work-out? before I knew the specials or, gravely, that they serve no liquor.
Somewhere around the third course, the interfaith fluid-disseminater revealed that the restaurant's owner/manager and chief chef are ex-spouses.
"Whoa," I said.
"No, it's not bad at all," he replied. "They get along for the most part."
But that wasn't why I blanched. "No, I didn't mean that. I was just feeling for the rest of you guys. I mean, don't they walk around—"
At this point, I pantomimed aggressively, if not psychotically, pressing a button.
"—pushing each others buttons and generally driving the staff insane?"
"Oh my god," he whispered, guiltily looking over his shoulder. "It's like you work here."
Yes. Yes it is.