"you're entering a dimension of bad chana masala, you're entering..."
since casey was leaving for london and frankfurt for eight days, we decided we'd forgo cooking and order in something decadent... indian!
i love indian food and when it comes to delivery, i was so excited to yank open the menu drawer and order from what i thought was the only delivery joint around the near north side -- raj darbar. i call 'em up. an old indian man answers and asks for my phone number, which i give. he then recites our name and address, clearly indicating that he has on record that we've ordered there before. he then asks,
"vere ees dut? vaht meen streets?" i give him the main intersection closest to us. "vee don't go dere. dut ees too far."
i argued, "but you've delivered to us in the past. i mean, that's why i'm calling. the only reason i'm calling is that i know you've delivered here before."
"you ordered here in december?" he queries.
"uh, i'm not sure exactly when, but..."
"yes. eet vahs december." then, nonsensically, he says, "dut ees too far. vee are in downtown chicago."
"wait: am i not calling 2600 north halsted?!" for those readers not familiar with chicago, the numbers get smaller the closer you are to downtown where the numbers are, at the most, three digits. he said he'd ask the driver if it was too far. about three minutes go by and i hear nothing. it didn't sound like they were mobbed.
"no. dut is too far." i couldn't be polite. i tried, but this is the second restaurant [the other being la gondola] that has suddenly cut us from their delivery area, despite our fervent pleas. i slammed the phone down.
instead, we fired up grub hub, what i'm realizing is a purveyor of crappy delivery places from which everyone else has learned not to order, and found another indian place. not only was the minimum delivery charge kinda steep [$35], the food took forever and gave us each the worst indigestion. i feel like an onion exploded in my stomach, and i'm pretty sure some invisible phantom dog shit in casey's mouth. made for a really romantic evening.
2 comments:
I have completely given up on food delivery in this city. No matter where I order from, no matter how close it is, it takes forever to arrive, the order is usually wrong, and it sucks.
If we need takeout nowadays, I find I'm much happier, and we have the fodo faster, when I throw on some shoes and go pick up the food myself.
Delivery isn't worth it anymore.
not to mention the ass-trumpet i serenaded the rest of the passengers with en route to london!
and if anything it was cat shit in my mouth. not dog. remember. we unfortunately don't have any of those.
...and i say your nose was on a heightened state of pms alert. 'piz first i smelled, then my hair smelled funny, then the kitchen, my left forearm, and so on...
Post a Comment