I'd Like to Try Your Dark Chocolate Bag, Please...

Amanda and I decided to go out for a bite to eat on Saturday night after my particularly grueling Saturday brunch shift in the 90 degree heat. We set off with no particular destination in mind, and ended up at Isabella's, where we decided to really go all out, desert wine and all!

When it came to ordering desert, we asked our attractive, Italian-looking, actor/waiter for the menu. I opened the menu, and as if it were some cosmic joke, the first desert that caught my eye was the "Dark Chocolate Bag!" We laughed and laughed (both of us were well on our way to tipsy) and I vowed to bring it up with the waiter. I was cursing the heavens that our waiter was white because if he'd been an attractive black guy this could have literally been the greatest gift I've ever received.

When he arrived to take the desert order, Amanda and I were laughing. So I desperately tried to get in character and speak without cracking up. "So, how's your dark chocolate bag?" He didn't pick up on the innuendo at all, but I giggled like a schoolgirl anyway. "It's great," he answered with a completely straight face, and then added "It's our specialty desert." As a waiter, I understand that dark chocolate bag jokes are probably like poison to his ears after a year at Isabella's, but I could not resist. And neither could Amanda. I glanced at her, choking on laughter and asked whether we were going to get the dark chocolate bag or the fresh fruit platter (we'd already decided on the fruit platter, but it was awkward just ordering it after he hyped up the dark chocolate bag).

Amanda made the token "it's your choice" face that all waiters hate because it means more indecision, more time wasted standing at the table, and more time passed since the last time you've checked on that horribly high maintenance table with a ridiculously expensive check. Plus, since Amanda and I are young; he probably didn't even think we were going to tip him over 15%. Young people are poor, cheap or a combination of the two when it comes to tipping.

"I think we'll just take the fruit...no dark chocolate bag for me tonight!" I said. He shrugged, indifferent to the fact that we didn't take his advice. And then as he walked away Amanda, in a moment of unexpected brilliance (not because she isn't brilliant, but because she shocks me every time she gets dirrty), said "He's had enough dark chocolate bag!" The waiter fake-laughed without processing what she'd said and then it hit him like it does us all Wait! That was ACTUALLY absurd and hilarious. Did she really say that?!?! From ten feet away or so he replied "Reeeeeallyyyy?" with a smile. I turned fire-engine red and said something like "OH MY GOD!" laughing hysterically. That was when I knew we'd easily trumped any previous dark chocolate bag jokers Jeff had ever waited on.

I've decided I am going to periodically venture back to Isabella's - holding onto the faint glimmer of hope that, one day, some otherwise uneventful day, I will sit down and a tall dark chocolate boy will come to the table and ask me if he can get me anything to drink. I'll resist the temptation to jump right to desert, gratuitously flirt through the drink order, the appetizer, the entree, and finish by telling him I'd like to try his dark chocolate bag.