Dinner was fun and a great time, but, alas, lightning doesn’t strike twice.
It was a Saturday night and it was crowded, and we were all much more stressed with the logistics of getting there and parking than I had been on the other occasion I was there.
Before I had wandered in all by myself early on a Thursday evening full of joy and wonder, and the waitstaff was like Cinderella’s fairy godmother. This time it was still great and I certainly am glad we went (and so were my daughters), but I felt awkward and stilted from the get-go because I wandered in the wrong entrance and a helpful but somewhat patronizing host led me to our table.
And the food was just meh. Last time each course was like opening a new package on Christmas morning.
But we all had a good time anyway—my expectations were just too high.
When I have a great experience, I tend to get greedy: I want to repeat it, and I’m finding that often special experiences are a one-time gift.
I never realized that before. I always chalked it up to my being overly enthusiastic and then unreasonably nitpicky.
Not so much: I just sometimes look for things which cannot be found.
Interesting lesson.
And we did have a great time overall.