Bombay Hangover
Last night my roommate Sarah and I took our roommate Marci out for dinner at Bombay House, a really, really amazing Indian restaurant near our home. Marci's birthday was on Valentine's Day (coincidentally I took her out on Valentine's Day to the same place because we couldn't wait to go this weekend), and Sarah and I made her a cute little coupon good for a free dinner at Bombay House. Their old roommate, Allie, came along, too.
I don't know why, but the men working at Bombay House treat me like I'm well-known royalty. I went there about a month ago, and then last week and this week, but that's the first I've been there in well over six months, if not eight or nine. There are people that go there every single week. Whenever I go in the servers and manager, in their cute Hindu accents, greet me like a long lost friend. Last night the manager even used my name (off of my debit card, no doubt), and said Bombay House is my second home. Really amusing. Marci said I was a great natural flirt with our favorite cute server (I think he is the head server). I never realized I'm a natural flirt! It was a bit out of control though. I ordered my food extra extra spicy hot. When he came to ask how I liked it I said it was delicious and I said "I love it hot, though"...and then I asked, "Do you like it hot?" He smiled so cutely and explained how hot he likes it. ...Realizing what I said after he left the table, and the girls laughing at me, I lost it. Then later he checked on us again, and asked if I was still enjoy the hot. I said something about my mouth being tingly and my lips getting really hot. Marci definitely thought I was flirting. I can't remember if I asked him something about his lips getting hot, but whatever I said made it sound like an open invitation to check out my lips for himself.
Either way, they offer us more free naan, so I'm doing something right.
The manager comes over with this newspaper page and begs me to vote for their restaurant in City Weekly and tell all of my friends. He even leaves me the page. I looked around the restaurant...no one else was being left with newspaper pages. As we got up to leave, he said, "Thank you, Stephanie." I was a bit surprised as I never said my name so surely he must have got it from my debit card. We went to the front counter to get fennel seeds and he bade us all a good night. As we started to walk out the door he was like, "Oh, Stephanie?" I turned and walked back to the counter while the girls waited. He spoke a bit under his breath, like some sort of shameful secret, though the audible to the girls. "There is a condo." Insert puzzled look from myself. "There is a condo behind the zoo. It has two bedrooms and beautiful views." His look confused me as I wasn't sure if he was wanting me to go to the condo, or if it was an open invitation. It looked a bit directed to me. "In case you know anyone." I verified if it was for rent, if he owned it. And then we left. Once outside, Marci hysterically imitated the sweet manager, "Stephanie, vote for me! Stephanie, I have a condo! Stephanie, tell all your friends! Stephanie, can you do something else for me?" Oh man, it was sooooo funny. I've become Bombay House's best friend, or secret weapon, or something. The fate of Bombay House may be in my hands. (For the record, it is a seriously busy restaurant that will probably never, ever close...between the food quality, amazing service, and location/view of the valley, it is sure to stay open.)
In the car, we started laughing about it so hard. This very, very strange sound came out of my mouth/chest...it sounded like a corpse revitalizing itself to life. It was an uncontrollable laugh, which made Marci and Sarah laugh uncontrollably (poor Sarah trying to drive, weaving in the lane). I was dying in the backseat, falling over, couldn't breathe, my abs were killing me. I LOVE that kind of laughing. We got home and kept laughing hysterically. I tried flipping over the couch. Marci attempted the same. Sarah was booty dancing in Marci's face. We were laughing and crying so hard. Sarah got videos of all of it on her camera (not attractive, might I add), but it was so fun to be up with the girls laughing hysterically at 10pm.
Sarah insists it's the "Bombay Spices", and they put something in our food.
I might concur. It was fabulous.
I passed out on the couch until 5:45 this morning, and then was up for an hour until I fell back asleep. I woke up after a couple of hours and have this heavy feeling, like after you take a nap for far too long. Feels like a hangover. Sarah said she has a Bombay Hangover, too.
I think the Bombay Hangover is going to become highly favored in our home.
I don't know why, but the men working at Bombay House treat me like I'm well-known royalty. I went there about a month ago, and then last week and this week, but that's the first I've been there in well over six months, if not eight or nine. There are people that go there every single week. Whenever I go in the servers and manager, in their cute Hindu accents, greet me like a long lost friend. Last night the manager even used my name (off of my debit card, no doubt), and said Bombay House is my second home. Really amusing. Marci said I was a great natural flirt with our favorite cute server (I think he is the head server). I never realized I'm a natural flirt! It was a bit out of control though. I ordered my food extra extra spicy hot. When he came to ask how I liked it I said it was delicious and I said "I love it hot, though"...and then I asked, "Do you like it hot?" He smiled so cutely and explained how hot he likes it. ...Realizing what I said after he left the table, and the girls laughing at me, I lost it. Then later he checked on us again, and asked if I was still enjoy the hot. I said something about my mouth being tingly and my lips getting really hot. Marci definitely thought I was flirting. I can't remember if I asked him something about his lips getting hot, but whatever I said made it sound like an open invitation to check out my lips for himself.
Either way, they offer us more free naan, so I'm doing something right.
The manager comes over with this newspaper page and begs me to vote for their restaurant in City Weekly and tell all of my friends. He even leaves me the page. I looked around the restaurant...no one else was being left with newspaper pages. As we got up to leave, he said, "Thank you, Stephanie." I was a bit surprised as I never said my name so surely he must have got it from my debit card. We went to the front counter to get fennel seeds and he bade us all a good night. As we started to walk out the door he was like, "Oh, Stephanie?" I turned and walked back to the counter while the girls waited. He spoke a bit under his breath, like some sort of shameful secret, though the audible to the girls. "There is a condo." Insert puzzled look from myself. "There is a condo behind the zoo. It has two bedrooms and beautiful views." His look confused me as I wasn't sure if he was wanting me to go to the condo, or if it was an open invitation. It looked a bit directed to me. "In case you know anyone." I verified if it was for rent, if he owned it. And then we left. Once outside, Marci hysterically imitated the sweet manager, "Stephanie, vote for me! Stephanie, I have a condo! Stephanie, tell all your friends! Stephanie, can you do something else for me?" Oh man, it was sooooo funny. I've become Bombay House's best friend, or secret weapon, or something. The fate of Bombay House may be in my hands. (For the record, it is a seriously busy restaurant that will probably never, ever close...between the food quality, amazing service, and location/view of the valley, it is sure to stay open.)
In the car, we started laughing about it so hard. This very, very strange sound came out of my mouth/chest...it sounded like a corpse revitalizing itself to life. It was an uncontrollable laugh, which made Marci and Sarah laugh uncontrollably (poor Sarah trying to drive, weaving in the lane). I was dying in the backseat, falling over, couldn't breathe, my abs were killing me. I LOVE that kind of laughing. We got home and kept laughing hysterically. I tried flipping over the couch. Marci attempted the same. Sarah was booty dancing in Marci's face. We were laughing and crying so hard. Sarah got videos of all of it on her camera (not attractive, might I add), but it was so fun to be up with the girls laughing hysterically at 10pm.
Sarah insists it's the "Bombay Spices", and they put something in our food.
I might concur. It was fabulous.
I passed out on the couch until 5:45 this morning, and then was up for an hour until I fell back asleep. I woke up after a couple of hours and have this heavy feeling, like after you take a nap for far too long. Feels like a hangover. Sarah said she has a Bombay Hangover, too.
I think the Bombay Hangover is going to become highly favored in our home.