Night Out

March 2, 2010

We went out with some friends the other night to a fab Japanese place.  We had a ball. 

We never, ever go out without the children, partly because we CHOSE to have children.  We weren’t stuck with them.  We knew when we had them that we would want to live our lives for them and with them.  (It’s also partly because it’s very hard to get a sitter that we trust.)

Usually, we say we’re going out and then don’t get a sitter and then just end up taking the kids with us.  Well, this time we invited a couple to go with us.  The thought process was that we would 1. lock ourselves into the date, and 2. be more social like we’ve been meaning to do. 

Once you have kids, it’s too easy to kind of get lost in your own world and lose touch with all the adults in your life.  They either don’t have kids and therefore don’t want to be burdened with kid friendly activities, or do have kids and WE don’t want to be bothered with THEIR kid friendly activities.


The place we went to is the kind of place that has you wait two hours in the bar area for a table because they wisely don’t accept reservations (it’s worth the wait).  So, by the time you sit down at your grill table, you may or may not already have spent your whole week’s grocery money on back to back Amerettos or Bud Light or whatever you fancy.  In our case, the wait was almost as fun as the meal even though I really only had a couple very weak drinks.

Once we sat down, they took our order and we began to watch them cook in front of us.  He made the traditional big fire that cinged our eyebrows.  He did all the funny jokes while chopping our veggies and frying our steak and shrimp. 

He lovingly tossed our food in the air as he fried and mixed and cooked it.  He made an onion volcano and let it burn while we sang happy fake birthday to our friend.

He used his spatula to slingshot bits of steak and rice and chicken into our mouths from across the table.  I’m kind of glad the children weren’t there to see us four grown adults tilting our heads back like baby chicks with our mouths wide open and accepting whatever they wanted to throw in.  When I finally got home and showered, there were bits of rice and steak coming out of crevices I didn’t know existed.  Ew, I bet that grossed you out.  You know it was funny though!

He was also using a ketchup bottle to squirt, from across the table/grill,  a clear liquid into our mouths to wash down the bits of food that was being slung at us.  There’s a debate over whether it was *ahem* water or *ahem* vodka in that bottle.  I might not know the answer to that question.

We also did a couple shots of Saki which is a rice wine, served (surprisingly) warm.  The people we were sharing a grill with were doing shots of it, and they were young and beautiful and having fun.  We decided it was okay, for one night, to step back into our young and beautiful and fun. 

So, we ordered our own bottle of Saki to do our own shots with.  It smelled like it was going to burn all the way down.  As we counted down for the first round of shots, I cringed.  Boy, it’s been a while since I had anything that burned.  How could I be the only one that didn’t drink though, right?

So, *ahem* ever so prudent and grudgingly, I accepted my obligation.  Surprise — it didn’t have a kick to it, but it is served warm.  That took me off guard, but it was good.  (We found out later that a bottle of Saki big enough to give approximately 2 shots to 4 people costs $23.  That’s probably why the only kick was the price.) 

We were like a table full of 29+ year old 14 year olds.  We sang and yelled and woo hooed and hollered.  The beauty of the place was that you could pretty much do whatever you wanted and get the best food at the same time (utensils optional).  It was as crazy as a scene from Coyote Ugly but in a way that you could still feel dignified when telling people the next day at Church that you tried the new Japanese place for dinner and say with a smirk on your face that it was ‘nice’.

After we ate, we weren’t ready to leave.  We knew what awaited us at home.  And while we love being parents and responsible people, it was so so so nice to take an evening and be irresponsible and cut loose.  So, we walked back over to the bar. 

The bartender was drooling over my husband.  When he said, “What’s a Saki bomb,” she said,”I’ll do one with you!!!”  She was a cutie too!  I was proud of him. 

I couldn’t do a Saki bomb at this point.  I knew somebody had to drive us home, so I gladly watched him like a kid in a candy store.  He so seriously took direction from her on how to balance the chop sticks on the beer mug and then balance the shot of Saki on top of the chop sticks and then sink the shot of saki into the beer and then guzzle.  It’s pretty much a boiler maker, with Saki instead.

I did kind of feel bad for her though because after she so lovingly drank with my hubby, she said, “I’m going to step outside for a minute to go on break.”  It was obvious that she was expecting him to meet her out there. 

This is not sarcasm (it’s just sad) when I say that I really did feel bad for her when she had to walk back in, alone.  I caught her trying to catch his eye and make a sad puppy face as she took her coat off to get back to work.  How bad is it that I almost said, “Go talk to her, dummy!  She’s hot!”???

The next day, I got to see all the pictures that my friend took of the evening.  Why did a camera have to be involved?


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