Don't let the smile fool you...

Rocket Fish on 18th and Connecticut had me until it lost me. My drink, a Hot Rocket (tequila, lime, basil, jalapeno) was spicy delicious, but I'm not happy. Lauralee tells me to be calm and Zen about the insult, to enjoy my drink because life is short and we don't get to see each other very often. Plus, does it really make sense to want to rip out someone's innards if you can't actually do it?

Why the rage? The food at Rocket Fish looks good - shrimp, sushi, satays, among other delights. The bar is full. We are not having a full dinner, just drinks and perhaps an appetizer, so we are not allowed to sit at a table in the resaurant - those are reserved for diners, naturally.

So, we opt for a high-top bar stool table.
BUT...the restaurant won't let us order from the bar menu because we aren't technically sitting at the bar.
The bar is less than five feet away.
We are not sitting at a dining room table.
They won't let us order the food we want.

This is stupid. It is beyond stupid. I began to plot their demise, even though the white "Grand Opening" banner is still on the facade of the building. I hate them.
"If you choose not to make a sale over this silly rule of yours," I said. "We'll eat somewhere else."

Laura undermined the revolution by ordering a seaweed salad. She hugs you, sure, but is she there when it's time to storm the hill? NO!