What the fuck is all this?!
I'm looking down at the table in front of me and all I can see is about a million different knives and forks and spoons. I mean, seriously? Why on earth would anyone need that much cutlery? As far as I'm concerned, you need one knife, one fork and one spoon. That's it. You don't need all of this. And what the hell is that round looking spoon next to the knives?! Why would you even think of using that?!
I look at Mark, who's sat by my side. It's always him that I go to for advice on how to behave in everyday life scenarios. He's my role model. So, naturally, I'm turning to him with some sort of hope that he'll be able to enlighten me to what exactly all these different things mean. But, sadly, I'm left with disappointment. He looks almost as horrified as I do as he picks up the tiny fork that isn't really a fork and tries to figure out it's purpose.
“Why do we need all this stuff?” I whisper, not wanting to draw attention to myself. It's embarrassing enough that I have no idea what's what, but to be called out in front of three other couples in this 'buddy system', their friends and family, our friends and Mark's family and Dr Hallet and some other quacks...
All I get in response is a shrug before he looks at me. He looks terrified. I mean, I know that he's got his fair share of issues. Anger and all that. But it still gets me sometimes that he's just as bad as me when it comes to these things.
“What the fuck do we eat with?” he asks me quietly.
“How am I supposed to know? Ask Danny.”
“No. I'll look stupid. You ask him.”
“But then I'll look stupid.”
“One of us has to. I vote you.”
“Tough shit. I vote you...”
“You eat your starter with the little fork or the bigger spoon, depending on what you choose. Then you move inwards. Dessert you eat with the spoon and fork above your plate, and if you have bread then you use the little knife.”
Glen. What a legend. Saving the day for us blundering buffoons before we publicly humiliate everyone around the gigantic table. Probably to save his own arse, but you know. I'll take any kind of guidance.
“Thank you,” I breathe with a smile, seeing the amusement on his face.
“Don't worry about it. I got your back, girl.”
This evening surely can't get any worse. Not now that Glen has saved the day. I know how to eat now. So I can just order myself a burger or something...
And then the menu is handed to me. I take one look at it and realise that something is dreadfully wrong. I can't understand a single word on the fucking thing! What is wrong with this place?! I mean, is it really so difficult to write 'sausage and chips' rather than something pompous like 'Sella di cervo arrosto con verza e funghi di bosco'?! What does that even mean?!
At literally the same exact time, we both look at each other with sheer dread. I actually think Mark's face has gone a little grey...This is going to be a long fucking night.
“Are you ready to order?”
The accent is so thick that I'm not entirely sure that he spoke English. I really hope he wasn't speaking to me. Because if he was, he isn't getting an answer.
Thankfully, Sam pipes up next to Mark and spews out massive words. Quite elegantly, I must admit. I don't understand a word of it, but it sounds really clever. Danny orders his shortly after. Not quite so elegantly, but still competently. And obviously Glen has no problems placing his order either. So that leaves Mark and...
