On Saturday, after we left Crane Beach, we cruised up to my uncle’s place, which sits high atop a hill overlooking the ocean, and ended up having an impromptu party with some extended-family members who were there. They had originally planned on going out to dinner, but I knew that finding a restaurant in the North Shore area that could seat a walk-in party of 13 on a gorgeous Saturday night in mid-August with a wait time of less than two hours would be slightly more difficult than finding a unicorn.
Thankfully, the rest of the group arrived at that same conclusion before it was too late.
My Mom and I ran out and fetched a case of Corona and a boatload of delicious fried-seafood delights from this place here (and, no, this is not a paid product placement … though, as always, should they wish to slip me some cash, I’m certainly not opposed).
On those occasions when we call ahead to that place for takeout on a summer’s night when every restaurant within a 20-mile radius has a wait list as long as Rapunzel’s hairdo, I feel like I have just pulled off the greatest scam of all time.