The Waiter is the Message
My most recent "most memorable meal" was at Zorba's—a local Greek restaurant. (Don't you think they could have spent another half-hour on the name?) The food was great—I had the combination platter—a collection of stuff wrapped in grape leaves, baked in pastry and served over rice. But the memorable part of the meal was our waiter.
My son and I both recognized him at the same time—Gorgeous George. Gorgeous George is a local access TV star. He and the woman who sets up the camera 12 inches from her face, and the guy who thinks the Confederates are reorganizing next week, form the core of a blockbuster "flash-TV" lineup. (Flash-TV programs are the little video snippets you snag as you troll the channels.)
George is a six-foot plus, tackle-sized guy who tapes an endless rant about how beautiful and successful he is. Seeing him in person was a shock. Assuming that he was not in disguise working undercover researching a new TV series, it would appear that George is neither beautiful or successful.
He is a great waiter though. Friendly, attentive, and concerned—when our dinner didn't come, he brought us about 400 rolls and seven or eight half-gallon tubs of butter (all of which my 13-year-old ate).
It made me wonder what Marshall would think—is the medium the message or is it medium rare? What the heck is going on here? One moment I'm watching a special program on the idiot box—and a half-hour later the box is telling me tonight's special is a spicy, seared tuna steak.
Memorable? Does memorable require aspirin?
Chuck Green, firstname.lastname@example.org