From Evan Sultanik

Best $14 Yuengling Ever!

I usually don’t like recounting my day here, as that seems more LiveJournal than blog, however, I’ll make an exception for this evening. The evening started off with a great meal at Cuba Libre, then a movie (Monsieur Ibrahim et les fleurs du Coran) at the Ritz, and then some drinks. Rewind back to Cuba Libre. The only reservation they had was at 18:00, so the restaurant was fairly empty; we got a seat right on the outside terrace (it was a beautiful evening today). A lady walking by stopped in her tracks and asked my girlfriend if what she was eating was salmon. Then she asked me if my main dish was a steak. Then she asked how much they cost, “$15?” She then noticed a menu sitting on the edge of our table, and proceed to snatch it. I had to inform her that what she was about to steal was actually the wine list, and not the food menu. I told her that the food menu was posted outside the door, and she promptly left.

This reminded me of an experience I had last fall in Paris. We were eating at an excellent gem of a restaurant located right next to Notre Dame. One would think that such a place would be a tourist trap, but this was not; excellent French haute cuisine. Their house special is the beef bourguignon, which was excellent. In Paris, as most of Europe, it is perfectly acceptable to sit down at any open table outside for lunch, and then be served; no reservations or seating necessary. Therefore, we simply sat down at an open table outside. Two tables down from us was an elderly Parisian woman who was enjoying her meal. It is also perfectly acceptable to place one’s accessories on an empty adjacent table, as long as one removes them when the table is needed by another couple. Therefore, like the elderly Parisian lady, we set our bags on the table in between. While starting our appetizer (we ordered a full three-course lunch, as is expected at a nice Parisian restaurant), an elderly American couple walked by. The husband stopped in his tracks when he smelled the Parisian lady’s beef bourguinon. He immediately asked her what it was, to which she was startled and flabbergasted. She simply shook her head and pointed at the menu posted on the wall behind her. The American man simply exclaimed, “That smells really good,” and walked off! Ten minutes later, the couple returned and tried entering the restaurant. They were promptly shuffled out of the inside, as they neither had a reservation nor were dressed properly. The hostess suggested that the couple find a table outside and sit down. They exclaimed that there were no free tables, because they did not realize that the table in between us and the Parisian lady was free (with all of our bags on it). At that point, the Parisian lady was enjoying a cigarette with her coffee. The American couple then asked if there was a non-smoking section. They promptly left, and the hostess apologized to the Parisian lady for the Americans’ rudeness. 15 minutes later, after the Parisian lady had left, the American couple returned, sitting at another open table at the other end of the restaurant. First, the husband asked for butter with his bread. He was given an entire block of butter, which must have been stolen from the chef. The man then ordered a coke to wash it down, followed by his coveted beef bourguignon. Throughout the whole meal he had a map of the city unfolded on the table in front of him. It’s no wonder everyone hates the U.S.!

Okay, so back to the original story: this evening/night. After the bar, we met up with my friend and partner in crime, Tom. First, we went to the bar at Buddakan. While walking out of Buddakan, Mayor Street was standing outside, talking to a couple guys, and I almost walked into him. Odd. After that, we decided to find a new bar that we’d never been to before. Leave it to Tom to bring us to some Brazillian place. $10 cover, and $4 a beer.

This reminded me of a bar I went to in Acapulco. One night, we decided to try and get into the famous club “Baby O”. It was a Wednesday, and we had coupons to get in free. We got to the front of the line, and the bouncer didn’t let us in. Unfortunately, Merz's acumen for Spanish negotiation failed him, and all the bouncer said was, “No! No chicas!” Apparently, one’s party needs to be at least 50% female to get in. That night we were randomly with a New Zealander and some guy that looked exactly like Allen Alda. The New Zealander randomly knew of a salsa bar in the area, so we decided to go. $100 peso ($10 U.S.) cover, and $4 drinks. The old, ugly, rotund and thoroughly married Mexican women were free, but not priceless.

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