So this is Christmas

One of the not-so-glamorous parts of my job is the hours (well that and giving people rectal exams, but the hours are bad too). It doesn’t leave you with a lot of options, especially for things that happen from 9-5 or on holidays. For example, I got 4 days off for Christmas, and while it's nice, it wasn’t enough time to go home. So what do you do in Chapel Hill (a college town) on Christmas? Well if you think dinner is on the agenda, you may be disappointed. Here’s how the night went down.

One of the other residents and I decide to hang out. He’s an Italian kid from Jersey. He’s Jersey enough to know people like those recently seen on “The Jersey Shore,” but normal enough to be embarrassed by them. Naturally, I call him “The Situation,” and mostly because it drives him crazy when I do. Around 5 o’clock TS and I try to hammer out some dinner plans. We start to call around for a reservation at the upscale restaurants in town (I mean it is Christmas right?). We find precisely 2 restaurants that are open, 1) has a dress code (not a big deal if you have time to change), and their last reservation is for a seating in about 10 minutes and 2) does not have any reservations the rest of the night. We’re beside ourselves, scouring the internet in search of new options, and cursing the fact that only 2/45 restaurants are open. We come up with a plan that goes like this, get ready and drive 25 minutes to Raleigh in search of an open restaurant. At this point we’re 1.5 hours into this thing, and we’re not going home without dinner. We drive around, but Raleigh looks like a scene from I Am Legend (i.e. we are alone on the streets). Finally, we find an Italian restaurant in a hotel in Raleigh. TS and I head in and get on the list. They tell us that the wait is about 40 minutes (again, we have too much invested at this point to give up now). So we head to the bar and grab drinks (I’m working on like my fifth Diet Coke of the night and at this point my I’m down-right jittery). 40 minutes later, we finally get a table.

As previously stated, TS has a strong Italian heritage and suggests that, “We should make this like a traditional Italian meal, with appetizer, pasta course, then an entrée.” To which I responded, “Why the hell not?! I mean it’s Christmas!” I get shrimp risotto, we split an order of spaghetti, and I finish with steak (an amateur’s version of rare). Dinner’s great and me and my buddy are chatting up the waiter about things to do in Raleigh. At which point, the waiter asks us where we’re from. I say, “Utah;” and TS replies “New Jersey.” To which the waiter responds, “Oh yeah? I love Jersey! I go up to Asbury Park all the time… I have a bunch of gay friends up there.” TS and I shoot each other a quick look, which we both immediately interpret as “Did he really just imply that WE might be gay?” The waiter wraps up his schmoozing, and TS and I start dying. I guess two guys can’t get dressed up, share a plate of pasta on a traditionally family oriented holiday without there being something sexual attached to it! I mean what’s the world coming to?!?