It all started innocently enough. You know, one of those rare family nights out. One that doesn’t require me to cook but also subjects us to the wrath of Gwen after we (once again) refuse to dine at The Outback Steakhouse. I’m not quite sure what her deal is with that place. We’ve never been. Maybe she’s going to have a thing for Aussie men when she’s older…or Bloomin’ Onions.
Anyway, we wound up at a place called Sea Dogs because that was our only option. Evidently everyone in the greater Portland area decided to go out for dinner that night. We couldn’t find a table anywhere else. Not even at The Outback Steakhouse. Plus, we were able to talk Gwen down by showing her the giant white dog wearing a yellow fisherman’s hat that literally covers the right-hand side of the building.
Whatever. They sell beer. Big pints of beer.
Well, Sea Dogs was packed and our waitress was slightly swamped and/or didn’t give a shit about our family of five squeezed into the booth the back. In the end, we were in that restaurant for nearly three hours. I was able to document the entire travesty with my smart phone’s camera. I’m fairly sure the old lady next to us was disturbed by our behavior.
We haven’t gone out for dinner since.