An Interesting Dinner

Some time ago, my wife and I were looking around a small town trying to find a place to eat. We were in the “old downtown” of a little town, which was probably the “new downtown” as well and had limited choices.

We decided to try a little restaurant that sounded Italian, partly because Italian sounded good, and partly because it was the only place we could find.

We walked in and the place absolutely dead. We should have walked out, but we attributed it to something irrelevant and probably leaned a little too heavy on our optimistic side (what, I don’t sound chipper and upbeat?)

We sat down and I think our waitress was as surprised to see us as we were for sitting down and staying. She came over to take our drink order and get our family history back to the 18th Century. She was, to say, a little talkative.

As she left, H and I started looking around the place, something just didn’t fit. The pictures on the walls we something more akin to your Great Aunt Esther’s living room more than they were a restaurant. The layout was quite unusual also. It seemed we were sitting in a lobby or something, there were rooms divided in the back (that we could see) an out of place staircase to something on the second floor, nothing seemed to say “WELCOME! SIT, EAT, DRINK, BE PART OF OUR FAMILY!” At least that’s how I imagine Italians talk.

Chatty Kathy returned with our drinks and a couple of rocks painted to look like bread. She kept on talking as we paged through our rather formal menus. It wasn’t the content that was formal, but rather the binders. Not your typical restaurant covers, more hard backed portfolios meant for something besides menus.

We ordered something we thought would be safe t eat, and Verbal Veronica retired to the kitchen area to place our order. H and I laughed about the surroundings, noticing more odd things; the ceiling fans seemed more industrial, old fluorescent lighting had the bulbs removed and track lighting put up beside it, the chairs seemed to be a little rugged for a restaurant.

Our order came out reasonably quickly and we dug in. The food wasn’t very good, but we ate it anyway as it was late and we were hungry. About halfway through the meal, Talkative Tracy came back to our table to check on us and just shoot the breeze. I was halfway ignoring her, a trick I often do in order to feign interest in the conversation until I have a good excuse to leave. I caught about every third word, “Slow, Weather, Yesterday …” that was until I happened to hear a full sentence all too clearly, “It’s hard to believe this place actually was the morgue.”

What the?!

She didn’t just say that did she? And now she just walked away. H, did I just hear what I thought I heard?

H had stopped eating with the fork halfway out of her mouth. Her eyes as big as watermelons, not knowing whether or not to swallow the food she had just placed in her mouth.

I looked around for a camera. This had to be Candid Camera. I’m sure Allen Funt was just around the corner somewhere snickering. I took a quick inventory of my surroundings. There was no camera, no one was coming out telling me this was just a joke. Lippy Linda was now in the back re-filling the ice tea pitchers for all the customers that weren’t coming in tonight. This was real, and it wasn’t real funny.

H was still frozen in place, I don’t think she blinked for five minutes. Now that I looked around, it all seemed to make sense. Some idiot had bought the old town morgue and decided, “You know, I bet that I can re-use most of the same equipment they have in there to make me a restaurant.” The industrial fans, the fluorescent lighting, the creepy pictures on the wall (OK, I still can’t exactly explain that, but I’m including it anyway).

My meal was over. It was probably psychosomatic, but I swear I could now taste the formaldehyde.

I immediately asked for the check, and as we rushed out the door and around the corner to our car, we noticed a side entrance they were using for deliveries. It was easy to mistake it for a loading dock, but how many restaurants do you know that have a loading dock? It was the Ambulance / Hearse unloading area!

To say the least, we have never had quite an experience like that before, and I don’t think we plan another trip. I’ll be happy to pass along the address though.