(I wish I had a picture from this week, but one has yet to be taken! This slightly-cheesy [and horrible of me] picture is from Thanksgiving at the Reilly Abode in Mass.)
On Saturday night, before we watched the Blue Wahoo's baseball game in Pensacola, we stopped at Shane's parents favorite restaurant down here: McGuire's. McGuire's is a must for out-of-towners. It has been featured on the Today Show, Food Network, and more. They have truly Irish fare, a green drink called an Irish Wake (limit 3 per person- you'd know why if you had one!), and great Irish music. It is a fun experience, and we always love going there.
(Shane and me at the Blue Wahoos game on Saturday night after dinner at McGuire's)
On this particular night, in order to make it to our baseball game, we had an early dinner about 4:30. We sat down, excited about our favorite appetizers, great company, and delicious meals.
Until... a distraction was seated just a table away from us. This particular distraction demands attention; you don't want to look- but you must. It interrupts your quality family time and begs you to stare.
It is known only as: THAT couple. Ahh, yes, you know the ones (and if you don't, you may want to check yourself!). The couple that caresses, oodles, kisses, and canoodles- as if they just can't wait to get home. Well, let me tell you something- WE couldn't wait for them to get home!
They were a young couple, early- to mid- twenties. And in this dimly-lit dining room, Mr. Love insisted on taking a few dozen photos (with a bright flash, mind you) of his Mrs. Love (Ms. Love?).They ooohed and ahhed at each other, nibbled one another's ear, kissed and purred... and then, to my horror, as if we thought we had seen it all...
"The bra strap fall." This move was strategically planned, I tell you. Ms. Love played it off and if to say, "Oh, my Jergans lotion has left my skin so silky, touchably soft that this strap just can't stay in its rightful place! Oh dear, Mr. Love, would you care to brush your manly fingers across my arm and fix it for my poor, helpless self?"
We weren't fooled. Oh no, we certainly were not. In our disgust, we watched that bra strap dangle around her bicep, toying with the hormones of Mr. Love. She knew what she was doing- we just wished she was doing it in the privacy of her bedroom. Or at least in a dark corner, for crying out loud. They were in the middle of a busy dining room of a popular Pensacola restaurant, the crowds of diners rapidly filling the seats around us, servers bustling from the kitchen with trays full of a cornucopious amount of deliciousness, and here we were- about to lose our appetite.
Shane and I have lots of little games we play amongst ourselves when we're out in public. One of which is a Where's Waldo-type game, only, we set out to spot the "Same Siders." Much like this couple in McGuire's, "Same Siders" are the couple who insist on sitting on the same side of the booth so they can canoodle all evening, feed each other bites of their rabbit food, and slurp spaghetti in true Lady and the Tramp Style. I have had my fair share of jobs in the restaurant industry, and from a serving standpoint alone, "Same Siders" are just plain AWKWARD! Imagine a stranger coming into your bedroom as you and your lover are intertwined together, basking in your romantic bubble, and that stranger eh hem-ing at you to take your order, refill your water glass, or deliver your bill. That is the prediciment you put people in when you decide to become a "Same Sider." So, don't say you weren't warned.
Towards the end of the evening, as if Mr. and Ms. Love hadn't taken enough flashy self-portraits, they stopped our waiter to request he play photographer for a moment. We toyed with the idea of asking them to do the same for us, just for kicks and giggles- but refrained.
I wonder how our poses would have looked? Do you think they would have caught on, or dubbed us just as ridiculous as we did them?
The world may never know.