Texas Roadhouse is no longer my friend

So Saturday night Lee and I went out to dinner for Valentine’s Day. All I can say is WHAT THE HELL WERE WE THINKING?

I knew it would be busy. It was Saturday. And Valentine’s Day. Two strikes against us. So I had Lee call ahead. I wasn’t about to be stuck as Ruby Tuesday again. I wanted a big juicy filet and a huge loaded potato. And I wanted it to taste good.

Around 6pm Lee called Texas Roadhouse for call ahead seating. They said it would be about 120 to 130 minutes. [Why can't they just say 2 hours? Why must they make me do math? On Valentine's Day? We are supposed to be exempt from math on holidays. It's a rule.]

So I finished straightening my hair and putting on some makeup and then we sat around the house and waited. It’s much more pleasant to wait at home, on your own cushy couch with your own TV and remote. At the restaurant we’d either be standing or sitting on rock hard wooden benches watching some sports show on TV, that we can’t change or even hear.

At 8pm we shoved our way through a very thick crowd of people at Texas Roadhouse. They were so crowded people were having trouble leaving the restaurant after eating their meal. You would think the restaurant would have somebody at the door to take names since it was such a crazy night. But nooo. They had exactly two teenage girls standing at the hostess stand that is several feet inside the restaurant. There was nobody to calm the crowd or even encourage people to move aside. It’s something they may really want to work on for next year.

Lee finally made it to the teeny-bopper hostess and gave her our call-in number. She said it would be another 45 minutes. I tried to be very patient. After all, it was a Saturday. And it was Valentine’s Day. But, seriously? Did this come as a shock to the management at Texas Roadhouse. Did they not expect to be crazy busy? Can they not even come close to estimate a sort of accurate time?

Apparently the answer to all of these questions is NO.

After standing for 45 minutes Lee went back up to ask how much longer. She said, “I’m so sorry. It’s going to be another 45 minutes. Have you been to the bar?” Really? 45 MORE minutes. You underestimated your time by 1 1/2 hours?

Now I don’t mind waiting to eat. But I expect them to give me a fairly accurate estimate of when I’ll be seated. They’ve been in business for a helluva long time. They should be pretty good at this estimating thing.

But what’s even worse is…there was an elderly couple sitting on the very, very hard wooden benches. And they had parked their butts in that spot at 5:30. 5:30!!! And they were still sitting there at 9pm. They were so happy and joking with everybody though. I really could take some lessons in patience from them.

The numbers were flashing across the screen and we were getting close to our number. I told Lee if our number came up before the elderly couple we were going to swap numbers with them. We only waited [in the restaurant] for over an hour. They had been there for 3 1/2 hours. We could handle waiting a little bit longer.

But their number was finally called. About 2 minutes before ours. We ended up sitting right by them and then waved and smiled at us as we were seating. Again. They waited 3 1/2 hours and they were jovial and not at all bitching and moaning. I think I love them.

However, my bitching and moaning wasn’t over yet. After a 3 hour wait (granted most of it was at home), we were seated in the bar. In the bar with drunken loud mouths, cursing up a storm. Normally I don’t mind cursing. After all, I have the mouth of a sailor. But on Valentine’s Day? When I’m enjoying a stressful romantic dinner with my husband. I’d like to keep the f-bombs to a minimum. Although I guess I should be thankful that smoking is now banned in all establishments to I didn’t have to deal with that added aggravation.

So. Me and Texas Roadhouse? We are no longer on speaking terms. Next year we go to Red Robin.

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