Searching for our next meal

Rach and I went to St. Louis yesterday to see Alicia Keys. I had been looking forward all week to not simply the concert, but to eat a good meal at a restaurant that doesn’t have an apostrophe s after its name (i.e. Chili’s, Applebee’s, Chevy’s, etc.). So we walked into a restaurant downtown and both of us almost immediately realized we made a mistake. However, once the hostess asks how many are in your party, I always feel locked in. There’s no turning back at that point. It was a dim, candlelit place, which I know from past experience means expensive. In addition, we’re dressed like people heading to a concert. The rest of the people there looked like they were on route to a juvenile diabetes benefit at the Four Seasons. Sure enough I opened the menu, looked at the prices, and tried to figure out how we were going to get out of the place for less than $100. I don’t know if it was the sticker shock, but I couldn’t find a single thing on the menu that I was hungry for. (If I’m going to pay $47 for a steak it better be the size of the Gateway Arch.) The waitress came up and took our drink orders. You know you’re at some ritzy place when they ask you if you want spring or sparkling water. Honey, just bring me the one that’s not going to put an extra $6 on my bill. Just as the waitress starts to walk away she looks at me and say “Eww, you’ve got something in your hair.” As I reach up to remove the leaf, twig, or soon-to-be-maxed-out credit card, she says “Oh no, don’t touch it.” After asking for directions, I make my way to the restroom to discover a three-inch long pile of bird crap in my hair. By the time I got back to the table I was so embarrassed that I just wanted out of there. I made up some lame excuse involving Chex Mix or Nicole Richie or pickles or the crisis in Darfur. I was so frazzled I can’t even recall what I said now. Anyway, we got out of there and headed to our second choice.

The other restaurant was located inside Union Station and both of us remembered eating there another time we were down there. We checked in at the hostess stand and waited a couple of minutes for them to clean a table for us. We were seated and saw a waiter frantically moving from table to table. Another guy came over to take our drink order and brought them over quickly. And this is basically the end of the story because in the 25 minutes that followed no one came to take our order. We kept trying to make eye contact with both our original waiter and the water boy but it was no luck. Finally we just got up and left. I’d like to say that the third try was something more glamorous than the food court but it wasn’t. Rachel headed to Subway and I went to some generic Mexican place. I was so hungry by this point that I would’ve eaten a baggie of clipped toenails. I ordered the #5 meal, a taco and a quesadilla. The man gave a curt “No. Nachos only.” Are you kidding me? I gave him a simple “no thanks” and just resigned myself to eating some lousy chicken strips at the show. As I sat down and watched Rach eat her sandwich the man yelled over “I have beef taco and quesadilla.” I’m not sure where it magically came from, nor did I care at that moment. I said that I’d take it and I have to say it was one of the most delectable (albeit greasiest) meals I’ve ever devoured. I guess the third time was the charm.

At the concert it was the weirdest mix of people. To our left sat an old couple who I’m still not sure why they were there. I mean the man was so old that I wasn’t sure that he was going to make it through the entire concert. The last thing I needed was paramedics crawling over me using the defibrillators to try to revive him right in the middle of “My Boo.” Sitting directly in front of us was a white haired gentleman and a woman who at first glance I actually thought was Yoko Ono. She wore a floor length kimono and sipped delicately out of a water bottle the entire show. A man two rows in front of us kept using his camera phone to take pictures of women’s rears when they passed him. I just imagine him with a scrapbook at home, cropping all of his pictures from each concert he goes to. As he finishes he sits back in his recliner and compares them all: “Well the tush at Alicia Keys wasn’t bad but it can’t compete with that Beyonce booty back in ’06.”

Before the concert started they had a DJ come out to warm up the crowd. His name was, follow me on this, DJ I-ROK. Get it? I Rock? Uh huh, that’s about as creative as it got. When I think of DJ’s I think of the guys behind the duel turntables moving the records around with their hands to make a really cool sound. (That description officially made me the whitest guy in Scottrade Center last night.) Instead this guy just let like 25 seconds of a song play and then proceeded to yell over it. To make matters worse he said the same three things over and over: 1) Make some noise St. Louis!; 2) Who’s ready for Alicia Keys?; 3) Say yeah! Hell yeah! At one point he said "Let's go back old school" and I've never felt more elderly in my life as the opening beats of "This Is How We Do It" echoed throughout the arena. Um, ya that was on a mix tape I made my senior year of high school. I am now officially old school. Ne-Yo opened the show and the best thing I can say about him is that he comes across as a second-rate Usher. I was so bored during his set that it puts me to sleep even thinking it. Moving on. The concert was really top notch. The girl has an amazing gift and I was thrilled to be there. However, she isn’t a dancer and forcing her to do some awkward choreography is just ridiculous. She’s in her niche when it’s just her and the piano. When those two are in unison it’s pure magic. Brilliant.

Let me close with a public service announcement. Take it for what it’s worth. Ladies, the next time you go out to a concert please don’t leave the house dressed like a hooker. If you stand in front of the mirror and you can see your nipples or vagina, then guess what? So can the rest of us. Thank you for your consideration.

Set List
As I Am Intro
Waiting For Your Love
Where Do We Go From Here
You Don’t Know My Name
Teenage Love Affair
Heartburn
Sure Looks Good To Me
How Come You Don’t Call Me
Butterflies
Goodbye
Prelude To A Kiss
Superwoman
I Need You
Wreckless Love
Diary
My Boo
Unbreakable
Like You’ll Never See Me Again
Feeling You Feeling Me
Go Ahead
A Woman’s Worth
Lesson Learned
So Simple
Karma
Thing About Love
Fallin’

Encore
No One
If I Ain’t Got You