Cheesecake Factory, Chicago

I don't think I have laughed so much in a restaurant ever, and it wasn't an intentional part of the service. We'd already eaten that evening at Gino's East, but after wandering around late in the night and seeing that the Cheesecake factory was still open, we dropped in for a slice. The conversation was on the subject of obsequious waiters, and we all commented positively on how genuinely friendly the ones in Chicago had been.

Then Dork One came to our table. It was like something from a parody TV show. I think he may have been on uppers of some kind.

"What would you like to order, sir? Can I recommend the... oh you've already decided, sir. That is wonderful. I'm sure you made a great choice! Oh you want cheesecake! That IS a great choice, sir. We do a great cheesecake. Would you like something to drink with that? Water? Fantastic! What a great choice, sir. So many people don't go with water, you know? So refreshing to see a change!"

He left. Incredulous looks around the table. Someone else brings the order. But five seconds after I put a forkful of deliciously artery bursting cheesecake in my mouth, he's back.

"Are you enjoying that, sir? Oh you are! Fantastic! And you sir? Great! Amazing! Can I help you with anything? Would you like anything else?"

My friend Joe was physically recoiling from him at this point, leaning far over into me while I tried to eat and ignore him. Joe didn't even realise he was doing it. He was so disgusted by the waiter he just wanted to get out of there. He begged us to pay the bill, with his credit card. Anything so that he wouldn't have to deal with him. But we were enjoying his discomfort. There was no escape.

"What great accents you guys have! Where are you from?"

"Ireland?" he asks me. "No, England"

"England! Fantastic! I'm half-Polish!"

"Really?" I say, sensing some fun, "Joe's half..."

"I'm American." Joe says flatly.

He picks up Joe's credit card. He garbles Joe's name several times.

"Oh! What an interesting name, sir! Do you pronounce that with a hard or a soft J? That's a difficult name! So few vowels! A bit like my name... Szymczak"

Joe tells him how to pronounce it.

"It's Polish" I tell him. Joe casts me a fearsome glance.

"Oh! How amazing! What are the chances of that? Two people with Polish names..." in the city with the second highest population of Poles after Warsaw! Joe is now nailed with a conversation all of his very own with Dork One. Once the bill is paid, we race out of the place like children escaping an embarrassing aunt.

Man what a jerk. I hope he was on drugs, because it would be bad for him if he was naturally like that.

Don't bother with anything but the cheesecake, which is great, but expensive. It is incredibly creamy and sweet. It must have been a few thousand calories per slice. I felt like I was going to explode after eating half a slice. I think eating several of these might be a good way of inducing bulimia.

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Cheesecake Factory, Chicago

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