5350 (10/19/19)

Loving San Francisco, we frequently travel to the city for long weekends, which includes dinner—San Fran is one serious foodie paradise. Though we try to experiment as often as possible, there are a couple locations that we frequent regularly—our favorite restaurants that keep our interest with their excellent food, great atmosphere and, more important, their staff and service.

Part of an experience has always been engaging with others. Part of my storytelling are telling 'their' stories.

We'd found one restaurant with excellent food, but with a special waiter that took the experience to a different level. His name is Trent, and not only did he provide outstanding service, but delivered with an awesome personality, sense of humor, and just an overall nice-guy attitude.

We looked forward to dining there and scheduled our days in the city around Trent's schedule. This went on frequently for over a year and we'd gained a friendship with this guy that you normally don't get with wait staff.

One Saturday night we ventured into the city, walked over to our favorite restaurant, asked to be seated in our friends' section—only to be told Trent no longer worked there—he had quit a few weeks back. We got seated with another waiter—still good food and service, just not the same, and just sort of an empty feeling.

I left disappointed. I'd never reached out for a number, email or any form of contact, just sort of under the assumption our favorite waiter would always be there. Yes, I shirk from reality regularly.

But I've found throughout life we regularly meet people we like, and if we don't make the effort to keep in contact, we normally never see those people again. That's just life. Not necessarily.

Move forward about 9 months, a group of us were wandering the streets of London looking for a place to eat. London too, is a foodie paradise. We'd been pretty picky looking for the perfect restaurant when it started to rain—and rain hard.

That forced our hand, we looked around, saw a swanky white-linen restaurant just across the street, it looked warm, comfortable, and inviting inside—guess our choice was made for us.

We stepped inside, and though the place was busy, we were seated in a nice location. Shaking off our wet-dog jackets and settling into our table, the hostess handed us menus—hmm, nice food selection—and gave me the wine list, saying our waiter was a genius at pairing their food and was preparing to take the master sommelier exam, so would be excellent at assisting us in our wine selection.

In her gorgeous deep British accent, she asked where we were from—we gave the usual broad 'California' reply, then added San Francisco and now Los Angeles. Oh, San Francisco? She smiled from ear to ear. "Your waiter will be with you shortly."

We settled further into the rich leather chairs, and few minutes later the waiter approached with an excited, though questioning "Dave?" I turned and holy crud, "Trent!" Getting a long-missed hug, we were both amazed. All those months later, all those miles—5350 to be exact.

And so Trent's story began. One day while working at our favorite restaurant in San Francisco, a family on vacation from London had come in for dinner, and Trent fell in love with their daughter—and had kept in touch.

They started long-distance dating, and Trent ended up moving to London, and to a job at the restaurant where his new girlfriend Katie was the hostess.

I don't believe in coincidence, and don't believe stories have endings.

I now keep in touch with Trent, and we make sure to look him up every time we are in London. He and Katie, well, went their separate ways. But now Trent is the official 'sommelier' at another swanky restaurant in London, after receiving his official certification. And so another chapter begins.

 

#SanFrancisco #London #restaurant #sommelier #Trent