There is this restaurant in Washington Township called Season's. Growing up it provided me with some great memories. There was the time my dad was robbed at gun point in our driveway and the get away car was abandoned there. There was the time I burned my mom on purpose by slowly pushing a hot pot of coffee across the table until the side touched her arm and she smacked the shit out of me in front of everyone in the restaurant. There was the time my friend Rebecca got married there. I've never had better steak or was it fish?
With so many great memories it's hard to pick out my favorite, but if a gun was put to my head like it was my dad's, I would say it was the way my mom handled the Valet. Sybil would pull in the lot, speed passed the sixteen year old in the red vest and park the car herself. The poor Valet would just stand there astonished and happy that Sybil didn't take off his foot when she swerved into a spot. It was also fun when the meal was over and we would go collect our car. The Valet would come over for our ticket as we walked out and remember who Sybil was and just cower away. The $2.50 service charge she saved ensured that I got my own desert so who am I to complain.
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