Date of Last Visit: Saturday, April 2, 2011
The Victims: Theresa, Amy
The Damage: $40ish each
The Background: Do you remember where you were when Michael Jackson died? Me, I was slightly over-served and heading home on the 56 bus in London’s Clerkenwell. Twitter for iPhone (or maybe it was Tweetie at the time) was saying how MJ had kicked the bucket. I announced this to my fellow passengers on the 56 bus and they all looked at me with that “Poor Yank. Overserved now, isn’t she?” sort of look. No response. Just glares.
Haters gonna hate, huh?
You’re probably wondering where I’m going with this.
So within 10 minutes of getting to the airport in Kuwait the other Thursday night, my voicemail beeps and I get one of those United Airlines “Easy” Updates. “Hello. This is United. Your flight from Kuwait City to Chicago has been canceled.”
Bummer. Totally. (But I kinda already knew this was going to happen. The Bahrain => Kuwait pre-leg of my flight had already been canceled, and United Cargo–my secret weapon in analyzing United on-timeness–was already saying that my Chicago flight was under “Decision.”)
But there I am in Kuwait City with my iPhone–underserved this time because KUWAIT IS A DRY COUNTRY–and I announce to my fellow passengers that our flight has been cancelled. They all look at me like I’m crazy. Like big time crazy. “How can you possibly know that?” one man asks me. I play back the voicemail–on speaker phone–and he looks away. Goes back to reading his newspaper. Stays in the queue as I step out of it.
I call United. I rebook myself on the next flight out. 24 HOURS later. I again tell my fellow passengers, “Hey guys, the flight’s been canceled.” Everyone just looks at me like I’ve just announced that Michael Jackson, the King of Pop, is dead and they’ve just seen him in concert.
“Well, they haven’t made any announcements,” says one woman.
“Sometimes technology is faster than announcements,” I say. “And I just called United. And they confirmed there’s no flight and they rebooked me. Because the flight is canceled.”
No one moves.
I take my luggage and leave the airport. No one follows. I repeat the entire process 24 hours later, but I get upgraded to business class! (How you feeling now, haters?) I finally arrive back in Chicago Saturday morning around 10 am. I pass out cold but rouse myself just in time for dinner with Theresa and Amy.
I’ll start with the better of the two pastas. The gnocchi with fried sage was amazingly good. Satisfyingly dense gnocchi pared with disturbingly good fried sage. This made me want to come home and fry up some sage. This never happens.
Antico prides itself on its seasonal menu, and we were sold on the idea of a soft wheat pasta with mushrooms. (Although long-term readers will know that I am more down on mushrooms than up.) Um, can we talk about presentation here? It’s pretty crap. What were they thinking? It’s all just too wet and messy.
We finish off with a plate of short ribs and polenta. It’s really hard for me to dislike polenta. The short ribs were rich and tender. My only complaint, again, would be presentation. But for tasty food, I will put forward that there are far worse things.
The Service: Totally annoying. Would hover and interrupt, and always when one of us were at the denouement of some very important story. To the point where after this happening three or four times, he said, “Gee, I always seem to be interrupting you when you’re in the middle of a big story.” That’s a sign, my friend. A sign.
The Sound: LOUD. Way too loud. It’s a small space, but with no soft coverings. We were in the very back and I could still barely hear myself think.
The Verdict: On the fence. Like that it’s BYOB. Liked the gnocchi A LOT. Did not like the service and felt that the presentation was a bit slapdash.