Friday nites are for glitz and glam. Time to get dolled up and hit the town. Polish the ‘Stang and cruise on down to the finest Italian restaurant this side of the Arno. I’m talking about (the) Mulberry in Lackawanna, New York. My mustang is in my dreams so we took the Chevy Malibu instead.

This was a purposeful date. My wife is 40 weeks pregnant and must have overheard a bunch of geriatric wives weaving tales of labor induction. Apparently one of these narratives includes eating eggplant parm and having the baby. We made reservations online and showed up one minute late. The place was pretty packed. Upon arrival we were seated in the busy front/bar dining room. But then the hostess saw my wife’s belly and asked if we wanted to swap tables to a more a serene room. So we did. We were now yellow hairs amongst blues.

Our waitress was very excited to have a pregnant lady in her company. She touched my wife’s shoulder repeatedly and told us that we were the 4th couple to have eggplant parm that week. The garlic bread that we ordered for our appetizers was very tasty. Way better than white bread with butter and garlic salt in a toaster oven. Way better. Our entrees came pretty fast. I ordered a white pasta dish with sausage and broccoli rabe and she got her parm. My fone fell in her pasta while I was demonstrating the rigidity of my new case. The food was great. Service was amazing.  And now the contractions start. 

7.6 out of 7.9.

a long time ago.