“It is much more important to know what sort of a patient has a disease than what sort of a disease a patient has.” - Sir William Osler






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L'Chaim! Or Something!

Yesterday while walking with my next-door neighbor we got to talking about her upcoming birthday (tomorrow). My neighbor is widowed, about ten years older than I am, and a stockbroker. She's coming off a recent breakup with some guy she met playing golf (I met him once and wasn't too impressed). She'd needled him into giving her an engagement ring, but the relationship stalled out after that and no wedding plans were made; eventually he gave her the "I think it's time we called it a day" speech and that was the end of that. This is her first birthday she'll celebrate without him, and after the recent loss of a close relative on top of that, she wasn't looking forward to her birthday too much - atypically for her, she hadn't made any plans.

"Then you and I should go out!" was my response. "Let's do something different, like pick some really wacky place you'd never normally go to. I've got a great idea." I then told her the story of my visit to The Arsenal, and its abrupt termination.

This is what happened. A local food critic had written a review of the Arsenal, which is some sort of low-rent steakhouse in West Los Angeles, and made it sound pretty good (despite his comment that the waitresses had been there "since Century City was a bean field"). One night a friend and I were looking for a place to eat, and I persuaded him to try it. Our first challenge was locating the restaurant. I knew roughly where it was, but still it took some cruising up and down Pico Boulevard before we finally found the place. The side that faced the street was one of those flat, windowless storefronts that instantly make me think "sleazy nightclub"; nevertheless, we persevered, pulled into the alley leading to the parking area - and were confronted by a string of Harleys in the parking lot.

My friend is a wonderful guy, but "macho" is not his middle name. His startled response to the choppers massed in front of us was "Oh my God, maybe we'd better try someplace else." Part of me agreed with him, but part still was eager to test what could be an underrated but tasty dining experience. Therefore, in we went. All I remember of the interior was the dozen or so pairs of eyes belonging to the Harleys' owners boring into us as a greeting.

In tandem, we halted, spun on our heels and headed for the door. The noise that rose behind us brought back memories of taunts on the playground in childhood: "YEAAAAA!"

Laughing our heads off, we scrambled back into the car; I threw it into reverse and hit the accelerator, miraculously avoiding the motorcycles standing around like dominoes waiting to be knocked over. We found somewhere else to eat that night. So you can see, of course, why I was so eager to go back and try again, right?

Well, neither could my neighbor. "You want to eat DINNER there??" was her amazed response.

"Look, it'll be an adventure. We both need one. It'll take your mind off things!" I responded. "Let's live a little!"

"Well, I guess we could go there for a drink," she responded.

So that's where things stand; we're headed to the Arsenal for a drink tomorrow night, and then who knows what after that? I'll keep you posted.

posted by Dr. Alice at #