From the Food Gal...on gustatory karma

So I'm looking back through the history of my gourmand adventures over the last year, as documented here by my erstwhile diner-in-crime, and I noticed something: every time we have a less than satisfactory experience in a restaurant, something rummy happens thereafter.

Example 1: on the way home from the infamous Inn at Little Washington, a deer plowed into the side of our car. People laugh when we say a deer hit us, but that's exactly what happened--we saw it, the F-G took evasive action, and the darn thing rammed the driver's side doors anyhow.

Example 2: at Bar Americain, I slipped on the way back from the restroom. I was wearing low heels and I'd only had 2 drinks with a good bit of food, so I really don't think it was my fault. (But I do have to point out, regarding that, that as a former resident of the Empire State I took great pride in the fact that several nearby diners immediately jumped up to see if I was alright. This would not likely have happened elsewhere. People think New Yorkers are rude--people are idiots.)

Example 3: post-Presidio Social Club, the F-G came down with something akin to a full-body migraine. In this case, I'll allow that he might just be allergic to bad service, but nonetheless a pattern emerges.

So, diner beware, I think. This may be a lesson in finish your drink and get the h*ll out while you still can, should things appear to be going south. I'm going to have to train the F-G in the cut and run, though, as he does embody the hope-springs-eternal philosophy about restaurants....