The Lonely Diners

So we decided to eat out Friday night at a nice restaurant in the area (we'd had our Waffle House fix earlier in the week). The kids showered and we all gussied up a bit. Then things went downhill. It started with the reservation:
"Can I get a reservation for 4 at 7 PM tonight?"
"NO! We're not open at 4!"
"No, it's for 4 PEOPLE, at 7 PM."
"Oh, sure. You said 4? At 7:10?"
"No, 7 PM."
"OK."

Then we arrive...to a completely empty parking lot. The waiter (henceforth known as W) indicates he knew who we were when we drove up (being the only reservation of the night, apparently). He takes our drink order - would we like sodas, tea, water...? Dean orders a cocktail.
"Uh, sir, we don't sell alcohol. They should have told you when you made the reservation." HUH???? There's a bar right in the front! Dean decides to run down the street and get a bottle of wine. While he's gone, the kids ask for a Dr. Pepper and root beer. The waiter squenches up his face, "I'm sorry, we don't have root beer OR Dr. Pepper."

Dean comes back with wine and W proceeds to get the wine opener stuck in the cork. He makes small talk while glancing nervously at the bottle, then excuses himself to the kitchen. While he's gone, fruit flies swarm our table and we all take turns slapping at them. He returns with the wine poured out into a decanter - guess they dug the cork out with a knife. He leaves us with 2 cloudy wine glasses which Dean cleans with his napkin.

We place our orders, enjoy delicious salads, and proceed to wait an hour for the entrees. Lucas asks at one point, "Why are we whispering?" to which I reply, "When you're not saying nice things you should whisper so they don't hear you." Somewhere around 8 PM the chef comes out to say hello and explain the liquor license issue, and also tells us about his struggles in this market, etc. We empathize with his plight and appreciate his plans for the future - things will be great! (I hope he doesn't notice me swatting gnats out of my face.) Then we wait another 10 minutes for W to come back with the squenched up face and tell Dean, "I'm sorry, but they just told me we're out of mushrooms....I can go up to the store and get some but it'll take a few minutes." WHAAAAA???

Finally dinner comes, and other than Dean's entree being cold and mushroomless (other than THAT Mrs. Lincoln...), everything's delicious. Drew declares his the best gumbo he's ever tasted (even better than the white chili?!). The chef does one more drive-by then takes off, and W finally brings a bill about 30 minutes later. And never comes back....ever. Dean has to get up and KNOCK on the kitchen door to pay the bill. (We'd really like to leave now...please?) Then we walk out of the empty dining room to the empty parking lot and go home.

At least W didn't ask us to turn off the lights and lock up on our way out.