Two Old People Eating

Who doesn't love a holiday. As a school kid I even loved the Catholic holidays, even though they were somewhat ruined by the requirement that we go to church. But really, how could you not like having a day off from work to do what you want? That is of course if you do work, if you have a job you go to every day. The problem is I don't. One day is the same as another to me, so a holiday is nothing more than me being joined by the rest of you.

Yesterday, Labor Day, Mark decided he wanted a holiday from cooking dinner.
    "Take me out to dinner."
    "Sure, where?"
    "I want seafood, and I mean good seafood not Long John Silver's."
So arrangements were made for us to go out to a place on the beach called the Whale's Dinner Table, or something like that. Unfortunately the cutely named seafood place was closed. A holiday, remember?
    "How about that place called The House of Botulism, that sushi place?" I suggested.
    "Fine, but I really wanted fried shrimps."
I called the sushi restaurant. A recording advised me that it was closed for the holiday. Next up was La Table Française Fausse. Again, closed. It was the same for the next three places I called, until I called the place here in town that caters to our elderly gay crowd.

    "Hello, welcome to The Torrid Zone. Table for two?"
They were open, and they were nearly empty, which isn't such a bad thing since I hate waiting at the bar. The problem is that the food was awful. I had a pot pie that was little more than a bowl of runny beef stew covered by a puff pastry. Mark had fish and chips, which he could have had at Long John Silver's, and it probably would have been better. So I sat there quietly, and ate my nasty pot pie. Mark did suggest that I ask for something else if I didn't like it, but I have learned from past experiences. Don't bitch about your restaurant food or you might just get another bad dish, this time seasoned with the chef's saliva.