\u201cThis is terrible,\u201d she said with a sour face.<\/p>\n
He wanted to eat at TGIFridays. He saw one near the statue of George IV.<\/p>\n
He saw a Pizza Hut, a Subway and a couple of McDonald\u2019s, too. He\u2019d settle for any of them.<\/p>\n
She wouldn\u2019t.<\/p>\n
She wanted authentic Scottish cuisine. They\u2019d seen the Castle, walked the Royal Mile, visited the Scottish Heritage Museum, and stopped at the park with the pipers playing the afternoon show. Now, she wanted to eat in a Scottish restaurant and enjoy Scottish food.<\/p>\n
He wanted to know what in the hell Scottish cuisine was. In his life, he\u2019d eaten Chinese, Japanese, Korean, Vietnamese, Italian, Greek, German, French, Indian, and Brazilian. He\u2019d had dessert at a Russian Tea Room and a pint at an Irish Pub. Black Angus Steakhouse is the best he could come up with. \u201cYou have to wonder,\u201d he said, \u201cwhy we’ve never seen a Caledonian Grill or House of Pict?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat’s the reason we travel. It’s to experience a new culture,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n
She had to pry him off the sofa. He governed his calendar around ESPN Sports Center, weekend lawn care, and pizza on Fridays.<\/p>\n
At some point in his life, he must have experienced new culture. Nobody, she reasoned, is born with a prioi<\/em> knowledge of the Philadelphia Phillies, Bruce Springsteen, and Schwarzenegger movies.<\/p>\n She only convinced him to travel to Edinburgh because the flight was direct.<\/p>\n He’d preferred England to Scotland, because he said they spoke English not Scottish. She wasn\u2019t sure if that comment was wit or ignorance. Either way, London was hosting the Olympics.<\/p>\n She prayed he didn\u2019t find the word \u201cGaelic\u201d on the Internet.<\/p>\n They argued openly about dinner up and down Hanover Street, where they were ending a long day of sightseeing. Earlier, they\u2019d gotten lost in the Old Town. The curving streets, narrow alleys and bridges were confusing. They wanted to turn from Market Street to North Bridge, not realizing the North Bridge was actually a bridge, which crossed over Market.<\/p>\n She found Old Town romantic and charming. To him, romantic or charming was horseshit. He dragged her across Waverly Bridge to Princess Street, which was straight and wide.<\/p>\n He liked the New Town. It was laid out in rectangles he could understand. He could orient himself. He knew where he was, where he came from and where he could go to in the New Town.<\/p>\n And, New Town produced a Fridays.<\/p>\n “Fridays,” he said, “is a known entity.”<\/p>\n \u201cLike Starbucks?\u201d she asked pointedly.<\/p>\n He still bristled over that. He’d wanted a coffee. He didn\u2019t think that required an explanation. The kid behind the counter tried to help, but the kid couldn\u2019t make it clear that Starbucks didn\u2019t serve just \u201ccoffee.\u201d Europe didn\u2019t get \u201cdrip.\u201d Eventually, the boy made him an Americano. He complained that saying Coffee Americano was saying Coffee Coffee.<\/p>\n \u201cWhy,\u201d she said hotly, \u201cdo you expect TGIFriday\u2019s to be any different than that?\u201d<\/p>\n She had a point, so he steered them back to the topic what Scottish cuisine might possibly be.<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t know,\u201d she parried, \u201cthat\u2019s want I\u2019m trying to discover. How are you going to find something if you don\u2019t actually look for it?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t want to find something,\u201d he jabbed back. \u201cI\u2019ve already found something.\u201d He extended his arm and pointed at the sign over the door.<\/p>\n \u201cYou haven\u2019t found anything,\u201d she snapped. \u201cYou\u2019ve fallen back on. You\u2019ve settled for. And you don\u2019t even know if what you\u2019ve settled for is what you actually think it is.\u201d She gave him the special look, \u201cStarbucks, remember?\u201d<\/p>\n Shit. She had him back to Starbucks.<\/p>\n \u201cFine!\u201d he said, \u201cShow me one traditional Scottish Restaurant anywhere in this town.\u201d They\u2019d seen a lot of Italian restaurants. There were a couple of Chinese places. They\u2019d even seen a Mexican joint. \u201cEven the Scots don\u2019t eat Scottish. Doesn\u2019t that tell you something?\u201d<\/p>\n She said that she\u2019d seen plenty of authentic Scottish restaurants. She pointed to the corner of Hanover and Rose Streets.<\/p>\n He sputtered, \u201cYou mean that pub? That\u2019s not a restaurant. That\u2019s a bar.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes. I want to eat there. I want to eat real Scottish food.” She settled happily on his word for it. “I want to eat at that pub.\u201d<\/p>\n He banged his knees on the table legs squeezing into the seat. He waited sullenly for someone to take his order before they realized you had to order at the bar. She ordered two of their \u2018most traditional Scottish dishes.\u2019 He ordered a pint of strong beer.<\/p>\n The barman brought the meals.<\/p>\n She put her fork down after the first bite. She pushed the plate away. He said, reaching across the table with his fork, \u201cYou going to finish your haggis?\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Tuesday, July 31th, 2012 \u201cThis is terrible,\u201d she said with a sour face. He wanted to eat at TGIFridays. He saw one near the statue of George IV. He saw a Pizza Hut, a Subway and a couple of McDonald\u2019s, … Continue reading