So tonight was the night. We went to the Chinese food buffet place, and to my surprise, it was okay. Not great...not even good...but okay. I shall explain:
The service was pretty much nil, but apparently that is to be expected at a "get it yo' own damn self" type of restaurant. We were seated, offered our choice of drink (I went with the edgy choice of Root Beer and a tap water...daring!!) and were more or less told to go to the serving trays whenever we wanted to start.
Now, the original plan for the evening was to have dear ol' Grandma and Grandpa take the kid for a few hours so we could enjoy a liesurely dinner out at the troughs. They backed out this afternoon, so we had to take my daughter with us. She's only a hair over one, and had never really been to a restaurant as busy as this one (a few hundred people...the place is fucking huge!) so I figured it could go one way or the other: fantastic time or scream-fest where people guilt me into removing the loud child. We got a little bit of both scenarios, but nothing that wasn't manageable.
We got the little one set-up in a rickety looking high-chair they provided and, working in shifts, went up to the buffet lines. I went first...not because the little lady let me or was being super polite, but rather because I'm retarded and didn't offer for her to go first. (More on that later.) Off I go into the deep greasy yonder in search of decent food.
I started off with the typical fare. Chicken balls, sweet and sour pork, rice, lo mein noodles and (for some reason or another) pizza. Yup...apparently pizza is a Chinese restaurant staple. Who knew? Back I go to the table with our supper companions in tow (two at a time to prevent numbers piss-offs.) I can hear my daughter screaming before I get close to the room's area we were in. Luckily, I had the foresight to grab her some edibles while I was up there. Mashed potatoes and noodles for the kid, gut-ache and Asian pizza for the old man. Fair trade, all things considered.
Off the girlfriend goes to fetch herself some food, leaving me, one of our guests, and my daughter alone at the table. I do the awesome dad thing, feed her and distract her with a book we brought from home. But, when her wee baby belly began to get full, she began to get restless. She yelled a bit, but nothing that wasn't culled by a "lookit that silly doggie!" or "where's your nose?" directed at the kid. When the others arrived back, they luckily thought ahead as well and returned with a bowl of pudding and some more odds-n-ends for the kid to eat.
Now that the daughter was calmed and content, it was time to do some serious damage to my colon. I'd anticipated this all day, so I forewent eating since the night before. The food was okay, pretty much what you'd expect, but not nearly as bad as I was prepping myself for. I finished off four plates of food, ranging from the standard fare to some more exotic choices I'd never seen or heard of before. (It was the only place in town that didn't butcher their calamari...go team squid-eater!) A the dessert...holy shit the dessert! I hate cake and pie and pastries, so I was thrilled to see a full assortment of fresh fruits and jello and shit like that. I ate three wee slices of honeydew, a shitload of these purple/black berry things, some cherries and a few strawberries. Fantastic stuff, and very, very fresh.
Now, the food was okay, but the atmosphere was a little shitty. Wet plates from the washers, too many people and a general air of grease kept my attention off the positives of the place. The warmers and utensils looked clean...which is more than I can say about the other restaurant goers. Do buffets only attract low-end dirty folks, or is that just the case in Canada? Who knows; I've got nothing to base it off of. Most people were dressed casual, but far too many wore their Sunday-Best trackpants and tee-shirts with those stupid inuendo slogans, like "Beaver's Head Hunt" or "Joe's Hard-N-Ready Wood Tiles"...shit like that. Not restaurant gear in my opinion, but whatever.
All in all, an enjoyable night out. The bill came to $96, so I only left a ten dollar tip. Fuck that whole "tip the tax" bit; I did all the work, why should they benefit? The food was a little heavy, some things a little greasy, but end result: I would go back for a second round. Off we went into the driving snow, headed home to settle our bellies and get the little one to bed. Not bad for a night out on the town....family style, mothafucka!
It's been six hours since our arrival home. So far, the food has managed to keep itself inside my body. A good sign, indeed. Oh...and as for the title of "the kid" puking, it wasn't mine I was refering to. Some porkchop little shit-head next to us filled up on onion rings and orange soda, then proceeded to barf all over the carpeted floor of the place. That pretty much ended my food reign for the night. Little cock-bag probably cost me another plate of berries.
Thanks for prepping me before hand people! It was okay...next time it might even be "good".
-The Big Bad