Saturday night, a friend who is more social than I—meaning she doesn't use her extra "time change" hour to sit in the kitchen in sweatpants writing blog posts—suggested we have dinner at a trendy restaurant on Santana Row. She had come to the amazing realization that instead of the babysitting exchange we did when our girls were little, we can now leave them at home with pizza and an array of electronic devices.
So we removed the batteries from all our remote controls, and when our husbands got off the couch and into the car to buy more batteries, we jumped in with them and directed them to our night on the town. Just like that, we left our Cupertino/Sunnyvale cocoon for the wild night life we once knew. Or wished we had known, as the case may be. Perhaps the fact that I have never been to Santana Row at night in the ten years it has been open, is another insight into my personality.
The restaurant is a nouveau Thai affair, so hip and cool that they have a bouncer at the door. I was worried this Lurch-like fellow would card us, and discover we are over 35 (ok, so, well over 35). Then, in a 2011 San Jose version of Logan's Run, he would boot us out the door, back to the land of minivans.
This restaurant was so hip and cool that they accidentally gave our reserved table to twenty-something people who conformed to the dress code of tight mini-skirts. Our husbands didn't mind the wait for the next table.
You know how at lots of Thai and Chinese restaurants you share the dishes? You know how they bring out the dishes in no particular order at indeterminate time intervals? You know how you always thought that's just the way they do it with that type of food? You were wrong.
This style of service is apparently so hip and trendy, that the hip and trendy waitress (in the required mini-skirt) proudly, and a bit patronizingly, explained it to us, as though this restaurant, rather than say, a million restaurants in China, had thought of the idea. By the way, was she even speaking extra loudly in case our hearing aids weren't working?
We enjoyed the food, our conversation, and being part of the SCENE. As we headed home, my husband suggested we all stop at the pub for a pint. Too much excitement for me. That would mean staying up late, and using my precious "time change" hour for something other than sitting around in the kitchen in sweatpants writing a blog post.
