I'll be out of pocket this week, enjoying some cooler weather and a handful of mountains, so for your reading enjoyment, this week I'll be posting some of my archives from my very first year of blogging, circa 2005. Well, okay, not circa, exactly 2005. Anyways...
July 30, 2005
This evening David, Scott and I went to an "Authentic German Restaurant" by the name of Edelweiss. We had never been before, but felt that tonight was as good as any to try something new. After traversing what well may be the worst highway in the Greater Fort Worth area (TX 138), we finally arrived at our destination. At first glance, it appeared to be housed in what looked like a strip mall. It was nestled between the "Check N Cash" and "Casa Hernandez" just in case at any point of the evening you decided that Weisswurst was not the way to go and you'd rather pay for your questionable fajitas with cash. Needless to say, upon viewing Edelweiss, my expectations were not high.
After entering the establishment, I was mostly put at ease. The decor was a nice mix of Classic German and Classic Grandmother. Honestly, it looked like my grandparents living room with the exception of the Polka Bandstand and the Beer Steins. Pardon me, the Bier Steins. And that the servers were wearing Lederhosen.
We then met our waiter, who had an exceptionally thick Texas accent and looked like Lance Armstrong. He recommended some Jaeger Schnitzel and some Spaetzle, which turned out to be pretty good pork loin and small noodles smothered in mushrooms and onions. I couldn't complain.
The complaining came when the Polka Master decided that it was audience participation time. Oh yes, it was time for the Chicken Dance, That lovely tune most popular at Weddings, Roller Rinks and, apparently, Authentic German Restaurants. Since today was David's 26th birthday and we have a basic policy that states "The Person to whom the Day of Birth belongs, has final veto power regarding said evenings activities and minor preferential issues." This basically means that what the Birthday Boy wants the Birthday Boy gets. So the Birthday Boy decided that he wanted me to do the Chicken Dance. Now, to be fair, he danced with me. However, his definition of dancing comprised of jerking me around on the floor with a giant grin plastered to his face knowing full well that while he was embarrassing himself, I was embarrassed even more.
To those of you who know me well, you will wonder why I didn't just go along with it as I am normally prone to doing. Well, my inquiring friends, I did. It just goes to prove that Gloria Estefan was indeed correct. Eventually, the rhythm is going to get you. I gathered up my pride and tossed it into the nearest stein and I shook and polka-ed with all the rest, hands clapping, wings clucking and tale-feathers waving. And it was Wunderbar.
We ended the evening with ice cream cake back at the house. I will probably not make it back to Edelweiss any time soon, but I do hear that there is an Indian restauant in Dallas....