An Evening of Fine Dining in Five Chapters

CHAPTER 1
But of course we went to Tony's. Where would the most irreverently wacky family go for the patriarch's birthday? For all of you that aren't St. Louisans, Tony's is the 5-star restaurant that always wins that "Best Place To Go If Someone Else Is Paying" poll in the local weekly. It's the sort of place where people go when they want to impress someone, business or pleasure, and where you have so many table attendants, it's difficult to know who to ask for the check. Of course, when we arrive, a wee bit later than our scheduled 6pm time, I find out most of those table attendants know where my mother is. She's in the bathroom. That that many men would know where my mother is at any given time is interesting, but that they knew that she was "indisposed" only illustrated the key to my mother - she tells everyone just a bit too much usually while giggling a whole lot.

CHAPTER 2
Nothing says birthday like masks, those-blow-out-things-that-curl-up-after-you're-done-blowing, bendy umbrella straws, a birthday boy crown sized for a child, and a frizzly garland to wear like a boa. I'm not so sure the Montgomery C. Burns lookalike (now with severe combover!) agreed, but our motto for the evening was "The last thing these people will think about before they die will not be 'I can't believe those obnoxious people ruined my Wednesday night at Tony's'".

CHAPTER 3
Laughs, laughs, laughs is pretty much what takes place after the gang's got a round in 'em. Especially when my mother gets going. She regaled us with one gem after nearly walking into the men's room which is across the hall from the ladies'. The story featured my mother in the men's room in a hospital thinking she was in a unisex restroom. She learned the hard lesson when a pair of brown tassel loafers walked in. That's when she, trapped like a rat, pulled her feet up and pretended to not be there. This lasted until she was sure the man was gone and she was able to make a break for it. Sure, this has happened to many people. There have been potty oopses throughout the years, but no one in history, until my mother, has blamed such an incident on a pumpkin. Apparently, she couldn't tell the difference between the signs because it was Halloween and there was a pumpkin with "fluffy legs" partially blocking the sign. The urinals weren't quite enough of a clue.

CHAPTER 4
Cake time! With four tall candles, the cake was pretty bright in its own right, but it got a lot brighter after we started the photo taking. The digital camera I've inherited has a flash as bright as a nuclear blast on a sunny day and that is certainly disrupting to romantic dinners in dimly lit restaurants. But we, the "you're not going to remember us on your death bed" family could care less. I take the photos and miss the big wish moment so the waiter (or someone else in a tux) relights the candles. I take more photos catching the moment perfectly. Fortunately, Monty Burns had already eaten and didn't need to see for the rest of the evening. I do hope Smithers drove him home though. Those scortched retinas make Highway 40 a real bitch to navigate.

CHAPTER 5
The final moments. We gather up our toys, I hug all the attendants that refolded my napkin while I was in the bathroom, and we gather in the foyer to hear the maitre'd thank us for coming. There's a pause. He concludes with, "You're all so festive." We conclude this was the ritzy restaurant way of saying, "It's both a blessing and a curse you people come on birthdays."