Getting rejected three times in one night

Hopping into the Uber waiting for me on Charles Street, I expected to have a nice, normal Friday dinner out. But the night had other plans in store for me.

There were seven of us, all hungry and excited to try the raved-about Greek place in Hampden called Souvlaki. So we took two small Ubers to the restaurant, scrolling through the mouthwatering menu on our phones along the way. My Uber was slower, and before we’d arrived at Souvlaki, the girls in the other car called to let us know that they couldn’t seat us. We quickly deliberated options on the phone, decided on the sushi place Asahi and redirected our very confused Uber driver.

Asahi was just as bad — there were two large, reserved parties that took up almost half the dining area, and the hostess delivered the disappointing news while we stood squished between rearranged chairs in the middle of the restaurant.

Not wanting to make the same mistake for a third time, we called our third option, Iggie’s. But when we asked the host if they had room for seven within the next half hour, he laughed at us, and that was enough of an answer.

We didn’t have much of a desire to stay standing around in Asahi, which smelled fishy enough that it was concerning, so we stepped outside to decide what to do. In classic Baltimore fashion, two doors down from the frequently recommended sushi place sat a gentlemen’s club, and across the street was the so-called Latin Palace. We could’ve probably gotten into either, but we decided that the exorbitant amount of money we’d spent on Ubers around Baltimore was probably a sign that we should head back to campus.

So we called our final Uber, stood as far away as we could from R.I.T.Z. caberet and 15 minutes later, we were home.

With J-Cards loaded with Dining Dollars and growling stomachs, we raided Charles Street Market. In less than 10 minutes, we’d accumulated four boxes of macaroni and cheese, three different kinds of chips, olive spread, garlic hummus and candy. And on our way to the room in Charles Commons, we acquired a large pan full of spaghetti, leftovers from a club event earlier that same night.

It was about 9 p.m. by the time we finally arrived to the Commons room and started boiling our macaroni’s water. Everyone was starving, as we’d all expected to eat about an hour and a half previously, and no time was wasted cracking into the Stacy’s Chips, popcorn and cold spaghetti.

It might’ve been based partially on the fact that we were all starving by the time we got to eat, but the meal was delicious. And, excluding the Ubers, a lot cheaper than Souvlaki, Asahi or Iggie’s would’ve been.

Although I’m partial to spending a night getting ready, going out to a nice, sit-down meal and enjoying the ambiance of a classy restaurant with my friends, it turns out that the alternative isn’t that bad either.

I also learned to always make reservations for parties larger than four people. So maybe next weekend I’ll try to be more proactive, and maybe I’ll get to actually try Souvlaki.