| rev:text
| - Some of my favourite moments in life are when you're immersed in deep meaningful conversation. Whether its philosophical about the meaning of life, what it means to be a speck in this world or maybe something more trivial like which part of the planet to explore next and why, you get zoned in with your conversational partner and everything around you just darkens and there's only one focus.... Until some well intentioned young seemingly inexperienced waiter interrupts over and over again at the most in opportune times.
As my lovely French companion tells me the about approaching a critical fork in the road in her life path and weighing the pros and cons of staying in Canada or returning to her small town in the south of France seemingly just about to reach the climax to her decision, the pimpled face barely over reaching his puberty server pops over my should with a smile, "Can I bring you some more water?". "That'd be lovely" I'd respond.
Seemingly returning back to reality, my friend goes back to realizing such a decision on her future maybe should be delayed and maybe not made over an overly cooked fairly chewy fairly flavourless "medium-rare" steak frites. The reality that was our steak was a bit more than disappointing as our expectations of Sidecar was maybe a tad high. Accommodating as they were, allowing the both of us to have a half order of salad and half order of fries, which was a genius suggestion to wit has never crossed my mind, there was something unexplainable that was missing.
Like having to get a motor restarted, we move on in our conversation, about life's regrets and the hardships we've encountered along the way, such as the steak we were chewing on much akin to jerky like that of which is our lives, the moment is ruined again when the waiter jumps in asking to take our butter knife away. Was that really necessary? Or the times he'd come in to ask to remove the side plates. Or to take away our wine glasses when it was obviously not empty. Or to ask how the wine was. Or to then return to ask yet again if he could take away our wine glass. Or to take away the bread dish. Or to fill our water when it was still half full. Or to ask how the how the steak was. Or to bring us more bread. Or to fill our water glass yet again. Or to bring us our dessert menu only to return to what seemed like seconds later to ask what we'd like before we had even opened the menu to look. Or to ask us again how we were. Or to ask if we were ready. I appreciate the attention, however we were exhausted in starting and restarting our conversational motors.
We spent more time asking "Where were we?" "What were you saying again?" "Why the heck is this kid back again?!?!" Like a well caring mother, it was extremely difficult in getting angry with our server, as he was only doing his job, and not only that, probably thinking to himself that he was going above the call of duty, to which it was like a warfare to our conversation. Maybe he really was trying to impress us, but more likely he was there to impress the French girl with some battre le fer pendant qu'il est chaud.
The dessert was not memorable, as several days later now, I struggle to remember what two was even ordered and shared.
At the end of the day, there are no real complaints, and I can understand the legions of fans who love Sidecar, but on this night...
"Seriously dude.. are you still standing over my shoulder? No.. I DO NOT need more water! No you can not take away any more plates. Dude... you're in my house. No.. you can't go get my pants for me. Back rub? Ok sure.. just this one time, then you have to go back to Sidecar ok?"
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