My Adventure at Renaissance Fest

 My First Time Out to Eat Since the Pandemic

By Jassy Ez 

I. 

I felt hungry. I went to Target spur of the moment to buy some last minute non-grocery items. Mask on tight, touching as little as possible, my date watched me in my freaked-out-germ-o-phobe mode, using the sleeves of my Gryffindor jacket to pick up tea items. It isn't unheard of to be anxious, maybe even scared, of catching this virus, especially when you have a loved one with a compromised immune system at home. I threw the box of tea gently with the palms of my jacket sleeves into the shopping cart. I passed the mannequins with fashionable swimwear on and felt a pang of nostalgia. "I've only ever seen these online," I said aloud, eyeing them up and surveying the variety at THIS local Target, one of the local targets that just so happened to have the best collections. "But I'm not here for this," I told myself. I had to get out. Couldn't waste too much time...time could be the difference between getting infected and not getting infected. 

Finally, we made it to the checkout line, a modest bit of groceries in the cart from personal hygiene products to herbal tea. I noticed a young boy in front of us, playing gaily and spinning around, a huge smile on his face. His parents tried to calm him, for he was in public in a store with people who wanted to get in and out. I secretly yearned for that carefree attitude. I hugged my jacket closer to me and sighed. We checked out. The cashier wore a mask and jovially joked with us. We returned to the car, and off we went into the night. 

II. 

We didn't buy anything to eat, and we felt our stomachs growling. For whatever reason, TONIGHT we did not feel like cooking. As we rode on the strip listening to the radio and talking about the people at Target, we noticed many of the restaurants with lights on, restaurants that were normally dark for the last few weeks. The stay-at-home order had been lifted here, and maybe...just maybe...this was our chance to eat out again. 

"We're only getting take out," I cautioned, trying not to think about the exciting experience of eating in a restaurant again. I realize I am pretty strict, pretty cautious, but that is what happens when you aren't thinking so much about yourself, but about a relative you truly care about. 

"Okay, take out it is," My date agreed, respecting my wishes. We pass restaurant after restaurant. So many of them are open. It's a pleasant surprise. 

"Hooters?" He suggested, giddily, "the wings." 

"No hooters," I replied back. 

"Why not?" he sounded broken. 

"I don't like wings," I replied, curtly. 

"But why don't you like--" 

"That place," I pointed out, my mouth watering. It was huge, and vibrant. A steakhouse. We pulled in the front entrance, and parked. Nervous, I dug my gloves and mask out to put on before going inside, and took a deep breath, mentally preparing myself. 

I hadn't realized I lost someone. "Hey, aren't you gonna wait for me?!" I yelled, getting out of the car and slamming the door. I noticed my date was almost in the restaurant without me. This guy was more eager and hungrier than I was. 

"Er-sorry," he fumbled. I laughed, and caught up to him, almost fully in gear. 

III. 

He cautiously opened the door for me, to this well-lit, quaint steakhouse. We approached the house manager skeptically. He stood at the entrance desk of the restaurant, chatting with another employee. He smiled at us. 

"Dining in or taking out?" He asked, professionally. I looked around the restaurant, nervous. I could tell my date really wanted to dine in, but I was unsure. 

"Do you want to peek in?" asked the house manager. "You can totally see if it’s up to your standard. We are only allowing 25% capacity right now, so the restaurant is pretty empty." I shifted from foot to foot. 

"Sure, why not?" I finally decided, shrugging. He led us into the restaurant; I would write about the surroundings and the way it looked, as that is what a “good” writer does, but honestly I don't even remember, and I am not going to make something up. I was so nervous, I had a sort of tunnel vision, only worrying about what was right in front of me. What was in fact in front of me, was very impressive. My date and I basically got a single room in the whole restaurant to ourselves. I felt like we were at a private party. 

"How do you feel?" He asked with concern. 

"We can dine in," I grinned, an inkling of excitement flowing through me. We picked a corner table, cozy and away from the air conditioner, with a window nearby. Still a little apprehensive, I made sure none of my exposed skin touched the surfaces. My date chuckled as I awkwardly struggled to make sure of this. Finally, I took my mask off to breathe for a minute, and surprisingly left it off. Our waitress came not long after that, and I was impressed by the quick service. 

"What can I get you?" She asked in a friendly demeanor. 

"Mmmm, I'm not sure yet," I commented, picking up the menu. There were so many options, and I wasn't even used to eating out anymore, not for two months! I felt weird, unaccustomed, and somehow, uncultured. 

"That's fine, maybe just a beverage for now?" She suggested. We both ordered water with a lemon (my usual beverage because, why pay an extra 2 dollars and something?). She came back with our drinks, and my date decided to order potato soup. I gave a faint whine, a sound that I didn't mean to be nearly as loud. Both my date and the waitress turned around to me, aware and curious, eyebrows cocked. You see, it is always hard having a late-onset dairy allergy, because you know how all things dairy taste, but you can't delight in their deliciousness  anymore. 

"Potato soup, really, potato soup?" I questioned, glaring. 

"What's the problem?" the waitress asked, concerned. Her own mask was a pretty blue color that brought out her blue eyes as they darted between my date and me. 

"I...ummm...does the soup have dairy in it?" I crossed my fingers. Potato soup was absolutely my favorite before the dairy allergy unexpectedly crashed into my life. This would be pure temptation sitting right in front of me. 

"It does ma'am, is that a problem?" 

"Well, I..." I took a deep breath; I didn't mean to be this dramatic, but so many emotions were running through me at this point, that I couldn't help but to be. I was so thankful and happy to finally be eating out again. The service was so nice, and everything looked so neat and tidy, yet I was reminded of my stupid dairy allergy. "I'm allergic to dairy so...I was just making a fuss, but it’s really not a problem, no worries." 

"Awww..." she appeared genuinely empathetic, which felt odd to me. Usually people didn't care much about my allergy that much. In fact, I have had so many instances where I have ordered meals without butter or cheese, or milk, but people have still gotten it wrong. I mean, what if I had a deadly allergy? I would be out of luck. This was definitely a new level of empathy that I simply was not used to, both pre-Pandemic and post-Pandemic. 

"Hold on," she told me, putting one gloved finger up as if to comfort me. "We're gonna do something for ya ma'am, on the house, no worries," she smiled. 

"You really don't have to do that," I responded, very surprised. 

"No, we're just grateful you chose to come here, and we want to make it the best experience possible; I'm gonna ask the chef what we could do for you, whip up that potato soup, and in the meantime y'all just decide what you want for an entree, sound good?" 

"Definitely," I beamed, smiling from ear to ear. Her kindness, recognition, and compassion made my night. I surveyed the menu a little more and eventually chose grilled chicken which tasted absolutely amazing. My date ordered steak, which I did not try, but it sure did smell mouthwatering across the table. However, before we ordered our entrees the waitress once again came back to our table, asking me, "How do you feel about pico de gallo and some chips, on the house? We have really good pico de gallo here." I never thought of a steak house making fresh pico de gallo, but I went for it, and it tasted exquisite, just the right bit of cilantro and onions. I saved some and used it with my scrambled eggs the next morning. 

Throughout the night, as we enjoyed our company and food, the waitress (I should have gotten her name) kept checking up on us attentively. She continued to show so much kindness and hospitality, just the right kind of treatment I needed to feel comfortable after a traumatic two months of hearing COVID news continuously from every outlet. When our night was finally over, and we were collecting our things, we decided to give her a solid tip. We walked outside into the starless night. 

"I really enjoyed myself; I really like that restaurant," I admitted incredulously, my mask still in my purse. 

"It still isn't the same, but it's closer to it," my date commented, and we walked hand and hand to the car, both satisfied with our first night out since the pandemic.