BOMBAY II - the revision

With nothing much happening, I have decided to revise my Bombay post in the manner of Strunk and White.... reading is not necessary as this is my first try at this kind of writing and is probably a gigantic failure. Enjoy, I say, with a flourish of my hands.

Not ready to settle for Guitar Hero and 40’s for my boyfriend’s 28th, we decided on posh restaurant eating to raise the festivities from the redneck classification. We tarted up, brought our doppleganger duo, and paid parking rates rather than circle 15 minutes in increasing frustration. Not prone to dining where reservations are encouraged, we assumed it the height of manners to show early by twenty minutes. This is, apparently, not so. The waitress, on hearing my name, squeaked “the table isn't ready! Your excessive promptness has unsettled us.”

Being inherently gracious, we sidled up to the bar, ordering a round of drinks. Five couples arrived after us and were seated. We ordered a second round of drinks and drained them. Emboldened by boredom, I approached the Hostess and inquired after our table. She gasped, clasped her hand to her face “I need to get your table ready.” I bellowed "how dare you forget me, you heathen!" and threw her in the fountain, or would have, if not for my lingering bout of cowardice .

A table was decorated in haste in the center of the dining area. My mouth busied itself with watering, and my gaze narrowed. With each linen straightened and fork polished, the waitress led us past the elegant table to one in the back. Four chairs were stuffed underneath with little room to maneuever without ruffling the neighbors. A single spotlight glared on C’s head. One could assume we aren't as pretty as we thought.By this time, half our party was decidedly tipsy. We ordered another round of drinks. Eventually, our waitress showed. I ordered the Chicken Tikka – grilled chicken with the appearance of having marinated in cherry kool-aid -- C favored the lamb curry. My portion of lamb was served with a heaping side of invisible guilt.

I twiddled my thumbs, memorized the décor, made small talk. Despairing of the waitstaff, the bartender, having stalled several minutes, brought our drinks. More waiting commences. At that precise moment, half our party is drunk, having eaten nothing all day. Alcohol paired with an empty stomach leads to depravity, so, a blessing occured when the busboy arrives bearing food. Balancing the overloaded tray on an adjacent table, he served the first two dishes. Then, as he turned, the entire tray cartwheeled off the table, and smeared our curries, rice and naan into the carpet.

One would assume this guaranteed prompt replacement of our food. Assumptions, based on wishes rather than fact, rarely find themselves in the “true” category. The clock hand ticked another quarter turn as we licked the empty plates, desperate for calories. Our waitress appeared querying "where's the rest of your food?" We informed her the only curry served to the table was currently splattered on A’s purse. “Oh, that was you?” replied the waitress, near giggling. Her surprise divulges two things; one, the idiot that dropped our food failed to inform anyone; and two, this place sucks.

Ten minutes pass and our waitress delivers 2 servings of rice for four people, half the garlic naan, lamb curries and extra lentils. The food was tasty, but unimpressive. For all the trimmings, I would have expected more. C was served a complimentary mango mousse that is fluffy and sweet and had A digging around with her spoon long after the last drop was consumed. We asked for the check. They charged for the missing naan, and all of the drinks, which are easy to comp when screwing up horribly. Oh yeah, and this place damn expensive for poor folk.

Total time: 2 hours.