O sole mio

I've been letting something stew for a little under a week.
Last Tuesday was my Father in-law's 84th birthday, and as it was his want, we headed on over to The oasis known as the Olive Garden . I was actually supposed to be at a phone bank for the library levy, but felt spending time with an octogenarian trumped cold calling people and having them tell me a thing or two about a thing or two.
It really wasn't that bad; I'll say that to start, to soften the tone of what's coming. It's not that the food wasn't tasty and plentiful, that the restaurant and it's Eden like atmosphere wasn't lovely. What it is, is that it's theater. Not to say that many restaurants aren't a place to make the scene or act out gastronomically. But in that we were outside of a mall, next to a car dealership, in North Olmsted , I just can't quite suspend it for long enough to eat my 11th bread stick with my 18th salad fill up. Six hours later when the food actually arrived, I was napping on the table and just had them artfully box it up for me to bring to the food bank to feed a family of 90.
Am I being elitist, judgemental. Yes and yes; restaurants like this are a grand way of gauging the nature of our world; too much, no substance and a shit load of money wasted.