Of Cheesecake and Men

When the men are away, the girls will go eat cheesecake…or try to at any rate. A group of girls (13 girls including myself) decided to indulge ourselves with a girl’s night out to the cheesecake factory in Salt Lake. We arrived and discovered that there was a four and a half hour wait to get in. Ridiculous! So we decided to send out scouting parties to discover which restaurant in the area could seat us in less than two hours. The winner: The Macaroni Grill with a wait of one and a half hours. So we killed time at a book store. Literally. Time died a horribly slow death…no pun intended.

Eventually we went back to “The Grill” (as I will henceforth refer to it) where we received shots of Butterfinger Ice creamy goodness. You may ask, “Was that the actual name of the appetizer?” No, indeed it was not. But the Butterfinger shots were handed out to those waiting patiently to be seated. During this wait, The Chef came out and gave two tables free dinner. We learned it is currently their 20th anniversary and they are giving away free dinners randomly throughout the evening. We amused ourselves by staring at those who were already eating and trying to make them uncomfortable. I tried to use my mind powers to eject a table full of people out the window, but it didn’t work. It was sad, really. Eventually, five of our comrades left and then there were eight. I know. My math skills are astounding. Anyway, we were eventually seated and began our daunting dinner decisions (astonishing alliteration). The man I referred to as “The Chef” (his name was Brandon) came by decked in his chef attire. We asked what his food choice would be, were he one of us. Asking our nutritional preferences, he then told us (almost word for word from the menu) what each dish included and how it was made. He made his recommendations on what “young girls” usually order. All of us giggled appreciatively at being referred to as young (even though we are in most respects.). He was very amicable. We thanked him for his help and said that we would be ok if he gave us all free dinners. He said he’d be pulling for us, but the drawing was totally by chance. Since he had been chatting with us, others would think it was rigged. Not only was he attractive, he was funny. Winning combo in my book! But there was one shiny round problem on his left hand. Yep, he was married. Nuts!

Throughout the dinner, some of the girls kept snapping pictures of their food, drinks, waiters, etc. Alright, maybe not the waiters, but I wouldn’t have been surprised. The food was extremely good, but we stuffed ourselves like Thanksgiving turkeys. Then it was time for The Chef to draw out two more “free dinner” tables. After the first table (#14 - BOO! We were #100), he turned in our direction and said, “I’m rooting for you ladies!” Well, he pulled out a number that wasn’t even close to 100. We were let down, but not long after he came back and said he was also disappointed. Then he said, “I can’t give you dinner, but how about I give you free desserts?” WOO HOO!!!! Four beautifully crafted plates of cheesecake (Yes, we got our cheesecake and ate it too!) and chocolate cake came, served by Chef Brandon himself. Double the pleasure!

But I think the most enjoyable part of the evening was the journey to the bathroom. There was music playing (of course) but there was also a tape playing on how to speak Italian. So we were able to learn some Italian in the bathroom. Also, we couldn’t figure out how to use the soap dispenser (a mystery quickly solved) and the paper towel dispenser was equally discouraging. Alas, there ended up being no paper towels, hence our problem. So I went to plan B…my pant leg. It works every time. Two of my other friends went to dry off their hands and had to resort to plan B as well…my pant leg. And so I became the “human paper towel” of The Grill. We were pretty hyper at this point (they probably put rum in the cake, or so we thought.), so we skipped across the busy street chattering about Chef Brandon and agreeing that he needed brothers (eight to be precise). We even started developing a musical, “8 brides for 8 Chefs.” But then it was decided (since one of our party is going to culinary school in the fall.) that one of the brothers would be an accountant.

The evening ended the way it started…in a car. Shocking, I know. But this time there was much more laughter and dancing. I love spending time with the girls. There are no worries. There is just a lot of laughter, food, and fun (that sounded like a Chuck E Cheese commercial). These nights allow me to let loose, be myself, and flirt without guilt. And believe me, there’s nothing better than learning Italian in the bathroom.