Last week, Kat and I went out for a meal at this flashy new Italian restaurant that opened up in our street.

It was very popular, and all week we had seen it packed full of people, but because I had been obsessing over it ever since I had heard that they served this amazing lasagne that had won an award at the equivalent of the lasagne-Oscars (who knew?) I had used my connections to ensure that we got a table. (When I say connections, I mean I had called the restaurant to make a booking about four days before we went).

As we sat down we noticed that on the table next to us there was what some people might call a “cute” couple. (I would call them “nauseating”). They were very obviously in the early stages of their relationship. (She was calling him “darling” and he was touching her nose calling it “adorable”.)

‘Urgh.’ Kat said. Or at least I think that is what they said because at the same time I was saying “Give me a sick bag”.

Anyway cute/nauseating couple were just ordering whilst we were coming in. Of course, they ordered the lasagne and with a knowing look, Kat and I decided that we were going to order the same thing. Who wouldn’t want to eat an Oscar-winner?! So, five minutes later, when a waiter called Geoff (which, to be honest, was a little disappointing in this little piece of Italy) asked us if we knew what we wanted to eat, we had no hesitation.









As we gave him our order however, Geoff paused. “I need to check.” He said “I am not sure if we’ve got any lasagne left”. As Geoff went to the kitchen to check, I whimpered and Kat bit her lip. We both knew what would happen if they were out of lasagne. (I would play the most dramatic music I had on my phone – I’ve got a folder for these exact situations – and throw myself onto the floor simultaneously yelling out “Why do bad things happen to good people?” whilst Kat would pretend not to know me and question her life choices).

I waited with baited breath.

After what seemed like an age (but Kat later informed me was less than two minutes) Geoff appeared and gave us the thumbs up. I was ecstatic. Ecstatic enough in fact to whip out my phone and play the Champions League theme music on full volume. (Whilst Kat pretended not to know me and questioned her life choices).

Almost fifteen minutes later, (with my phone now on the fifth rendition of the Champions League theme) our lasagne arrived. As our plates were placed in front of us, cute/nauseating couple took a break from being annoyingly in love and looked over at our table. You see, their food had not arrived. Even though they had ordered before us.

They called Geoff over.

‘Any news on our lasagne?’ nauseating man asked.

“Oh, didn’t they tell you?” Geoff answered, nodding towards our table “Those were the last two portions. Would you like to order something else?”

‘But we’ve been waiting here for almost half an hour. We ordered before them’, protested nauseating woman.

“Erm… let me go and check in the kitchen” said Geoff.

As Geoff scurried back to see what was going on, Kat and I glanced at each other. It was obvious that there had been a mixup. Nauseating couple had put their order first, but somehow, we had been served before them. And to make matters worse, Geoff now popped his head around the kitchen door to confirm that our plates were indeed the last two portions.

I looked at Kat. We both knew what we should do.

They had ordered the lasagne before us, it should have been theirs. We only got it because of a mistake. We should be the bigger people. We should hand it over and order something else. After all, they were just starting out on their life together, we should give them this lasagne as a gift. A harbinger of the good times to come.

I looked at Kat again and she smiled. She read my thoughts and knew what needed to be done.

And so in unison with nauseating couple looking on, we both bit into our lasagne.

And it really was amazing. I would even say Oscar-worthy.


© 2018 – VIDA Magazine – Steve Hili