Or not. Literally. And last night’s adventure in sight was completely appropriate as we were celebrating Chris’ 40-something birthday with two friends.
We headed to Rosa Mexicano at Lincoln Center. Yeah, yeah, a bit over-priced (1 Corona and 1 Margerita at the bar — with house Tequila — came to $18.50) but when you think about that guacamole made-to-order right at your table? You forgive the price, revel in the attentive service, and enjoy the evening… as long as you can read the menu. Thank god it’s Mexican food and you pretty much know your favorites at this point in life… If you don’t? You sure as hell won’t find it on the menu. It’s there, oh, I’m sure it’s there, but who can read it? Not one of us at the table!
The funniest realization was that even if you knew what you wanted, if you weren’t intimately familiar with the Spanish language or cuisine, you were in trouble: Mariposa de Huachingo, Arrachera con Camarones, Alambre a la Mexicana — all lovely titles, but what exactly were they? Ni idea. Nada. And none of us had brought our reading glasses. Vanity wins. We lose.
And when the bill came? I labored over it, Chris labored over it, and finally we gave in, passed it across the table to ask for a third opinion and determine if we were seeing a 9 or an 8, a 64 or 84, and, oh, by the way, can you just tell me the final bill? Miserable. And until my statement comes? I’ll truly have no idea of what it really was… We were laughing so hard — Chris had actually prepared ahead of time with his reading glasses, and then changed coats at the last minute, leaving the holy objects behind at home. We were in trouble from the start.
After dinner, however, we met friends at Serafina for a drink, and were immediately vindicated as the two of them sheepishly passed a pair of reading glasses back and forth in order to read the appetizer menu. Our laughter wasn’t truly appreciated until we explained our experience at dinner. And then the next 30 minutes were spent swapping blurred, double, near and far sights.
Ah, life is good. Even the parts of it you can’t see.