Dinner at Craft was amazing. Better than can ever be expected for less than $98 per steak (an actual price on the menu). I'm devoting my upcoming free Saturday to attempting to re-create their braised beef short ribs. Blah blah blah, nothing of interest here. Good food, cheap Restaurant Week prices, enough said.
But Restaurant Week events can't ever go off without a catch somewhere along the way. After dinner Boyfriend, my two friends and I decided that it would be an ironic hoot to make our way up to Ghostbar. Sorry, ghostbar. No initial caps here... we're way too pretentious. Anywho, we make our way to Dallas' latest attempt at becoming LA and are undaunted by the abnormally short line outside the entrance. My friend G and I are nominated as Group Representatives, probably because we're both tall. Tall = intimidating. We approach the bouncer standing ominously clutching his clipboard, occasionally putting his hand to his ear to listen intently to the Secret Service men on the other end. He could not have been a day older than myself, and seemed to be a former normal person. However, now he is Bouncer... here him roar.
Me: (confused that more trend-seekers are not forcing their way inside) "Is this the line to get in?"
Bouncer: "For the people on The List. Are you on The List?"
Me: "I sincerely doubt that." (Come on, it's Dallas. Not LA. And I am no LiLo, not by any means.)
Bouncer: "Then you'll need to go to the street entrance."
The street entrance? Like the commoners? Immediately I feel myself flushed with the feeling of rejection, upset that I had even bothered to take the time before I approached him to adjust my (minimal and sad) cleavage. This is by no means my scene and I typically have nothing but contempt for those whose scene it is, but that does not mean that I feel like any more of a person. That is, until I ask him a question about The List.
Me: "So, this List. If I were to get on it, how would I go about doing so?"
Bouncer: "To know is to be."
My friend G loses it at this point. He incredulously phrases a question that sounds more like a statement: "What did you just say."
Bouncer sighs, with a significant decrease in confidence: "To know is to be."
I erupt in giggles. This guy is losing faith in his own religion.
Me: "You're serious. You seriously just said that. You know that's ridiculous, right? Absolutely ridiculous?"
Bouncer's face falls as he hangs his head in sheepish expression and refuses to make eye contact with any of us. He is obviously embarrassed of his own words.
Just like my friends and I... when coolness quotients are in question, what better way to build yourself up than to tear an authority figure down? To quote an email pal of mine: "You verbally kicked that dude in the berries." Yes, I did. And I did it to make myself feel better. Guess what? It worked.