Fancy-Shmancy

My Thursday evening was spent playing volleyball until the ripe hour of 1:00 a.m. then coming home to pack my brother's and my bags for the beach. I finished around 3:30 then went to my hair appointment at 9:00 (which was supposed to be for noon, but - long story short - there was a change in plans on the departure time). So my sister Lex decided to tag along with me to the salon where I got my hair trimmed and even got some sweet bangs (I'm really branching out). From there, I went to make a withdrawal for my brother so that he would have some spending money for the trip, then whipped over to Donut Connection to get Lexi some chow. I realized how close I was cutting it: it was 11:00 when I pulled up to my mom's office to drop off the car. I would have just run back like I had planned, but I forgot that I had Lex, and that would have slowed things down a bit... I decided to ask my mom to run us back up home (which I felt bad about). Twenty minutes later, I was changed and ready to go. We got in to Philly around 5:00. My grandmother had been talking of nothing but this "fancy restaurant" my uncle wanted to take us to and how wonderful it was, and "fancy," and how it had such amazing food. And did I mention she said it was fancy? Rob and I gathered the level of fanciness and decided we probably would need to bring something a little nicer than a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. So fast-forward again to arriving in Philly. We unload the car and get settled down. Then my uncle asks, "So are we ready to go eat?"
"Oh," I replied, "well, we've got nicer clothes in our trunks. Just give us a minute to change."
But he caught me off-guard when he said, "No, no, you're fine in what you're wearing now."
I was wearing jeans and a t-shirt.
Rob was wearing a pair of swishy shorts and a mesh top.
What brand of "fancy" is this?
I should have suspected something, if not after this, then after my grandmother chimed in, "I love this place - they make the best buttered carrots."
A place that's widely acclaimed for their buttered carrots just doesn't sound fancy to me.
So we hop back in the car, this time with my grandpa, Rob, and I in my uncle's car. My uncle was excitedly showing my grandpa his GPS which would lead us straight to the restaurant. About a mile out, my uncle pulls over and tells me to get in the driver's seat and just "follow the GPS's lead" to get there, just to show my grandpa how it really works (I couldn't tell if that was a "so easy a caveman could do it" kind of thing or not). So I did exactly as it told me. And it got us there alright.
"Saville's Diner."
I swiveled my head back to look at my brother who appeared to be as surprised as I was. Not that we expect fine dining, but when it's been so talked up, you kind of get the idea that that is what you're going to see.
So we went in and took a number (as though we were in the deli section of the grocery store) and waited until they called us. As we waited to be seated, I looked around at all the signs on the wall, most of which read "NO SMOKING, NO SPITTING" or my favorite: "We will NOT serve Pancakes or French Toast for breakfast."
Rawr.
"84!"
Thank God, I thought.
We were seated and had our drink orders taken. I think the waitress had some kind of grudge against my aunt that none of us knew about: she continuously "forgot" to wait on her, and only her. When her fork fell, it took three times to get a new one; it took asking twice to get a packet of sweet & low for her iced tea, and then another two times to get a refill; not to mention that she was the last to get her food. Poor auntie. But these fancy waitresses just can't be bothered, right?
And speaking of fancy, my uncle was right: we were actually some of the nicer dressed people there - the vast majority of the customers were in tank-tops and shorts. Or wheelchairs. Rob and I were the only people there under the age of 35.
On the ride back to the house, my uncle asked me to remind him to send my aunt flowers for her birthday since we would already be gone at the beach when her birthday rolled around. My grandma reassured him that it would be okay if he forgot, "because you can always take her to a fancy restaurant when you get back."
I wonder which she had in mind this time? I'm thinkin' Arby's.