The Power of Whining

The wedding and honeymoon were fab. And by fab I mean FABULOUS! An absolute dream. Perfecto! I learned a lot in the process--about TBS (Traumatic Bridezilla Syndrome), the "lose weight, feel weak" stress diet, and making a commitment that may or may not be detrimental to your eternal happiness (I'm banking on the not-so-detrimental camp, because let's face it, Richard is the nicest person that's ever walked the streets of planet earth) But today I want to report on something of greater value that I learned: The Power of Whining!

The restaurant: The Blue Iguana in Park City, over priced and over decorated.
The weapon: Maui Maui fish salad and tacos, probably cooked sometime the week before and fried up in the microwave just before making their grand entrance on our plates.
The place: A tiny, tiny shabby table at the top of a dirty staircase. Other than Richard and myself, the restaurant was pretty much empty. From out tiny table we had a great view of the steaming kitchen below and an entire row of spacious, clean, empty tables underneath the glowing windows of the sun room. We asked the waitress if we could move to another table, pointing to the glorious sunbaked tables of goodness on the other side of the room. She moved us, alright. To a smaller table in a crampier location. Rude!

Maybe it was our ponchos and chacos. Maybe it was my lack of makeup and/or prada and gucci accessories. Maybe we didn't look like we deserved to be in Park City. But it was our honeymoon, dang it! And what Evelyn wants, Evelyn gets! *Bridzilla yalp*

After paying $50 for something worse than Del Taco at midnight, we drove off to our hotel feeling a bit ill. Ill from the food? Ill from the bill? Probably a little of both. My mind got a churnin' and I realized that we could have gone to Red Lobster for that much money. Red Lobster! The restaurant Richard and I can only dream of affording...one day, when we start selling off our internal organs. The restaurant with a golden ambiance emanating from it's beautiful lobster marquee. Oh, the coconut shrimp! The biscuits! The little lobster leg metal cracker thingy device! It is delightful and we love it--very, very, very much.

"Richard," I said, "turn the car around. We're going back. We're complaining."

A polite chat with the manager and ten minutes later we happily walked out of the dirty restaurant with a $40 gift certificate and a sense of empowerment. Who knew complaining could be so profitable?

We never, ever wanted to go back to the Park City Blue Iguana. But luckily for us there was another Blue Iguana in SLC where the food was heavenly and half the price. With our $40 dollar gift certificate we were able to get the most delectable assortment of appetizers, entrées, and desserts (try the flan--amazing!) We also ran into Richard's cousin...which was fun and not awkward at all. Ha ha. :)

Moral of Evelyn's ramblings? Whine your little hearts out my friends. No one, even frumpy looking weirdos with ponchos, deserves to get hosed by tourist town restaurants masquerading microwaved fished left-overs as fine dining. And eat at the Blue Iguana in SLC. It made my dear little heart sing!