The Pleasure of Preparation

This is Charisse. The first thing that came to mind when I thought of a pleasure site was the restaurant that I went to for my birthday last weekend, Mesa Grill. The restaurant is owned by the famous Food Network chef, Bobby Flay. As I thought more about the night, I realized that the pleasure of the evening started weeks before the actual dinner. I had been planning to go to this restaurant for about a year and I wanted everything to be perfect. This included a shopping experience and a day of pampering.

Two weeks before the dinner, I went on the hunt for a dress. My roommate found the perfect one and after a few adventures that involved a trip to a tailor and Brooklyn, the dress was mine. I had to endure the overwhelming crowd of people in Macy’s and the long line for the fitting room, but finding that perfect dress was worth it.

Next came the pampering. I made an appointment at a hair salon on Park Ave. where I knew I was being overcharged. Then, I scheduled a honey milk pedicure and a manicure. There was no expense too great, because after all, it was my birthday. The pampering did not end with these events. I made sure that I was well rested before the dinner and even engaged in an activity that I find rather distasteful, a nap.

I woke up from my afternoon retreat, showered, altered my hair, got dressed, and was ready to go. The dinner part had not even started and I was already in a great mood. My roommate and I arrived to the restaurant a tad early, but we only had to wait a few moments. My weeks of preparation and days of pampering were finally being rewarded.

The restaurant was perfect. The staff was extremely friendly and you did not want for anything. It was a perfect atmosphere. The food was delicious and the atmosphere was peaceful. It was not an inexpensive place and the staff seemed to be aware that you were paying for the experience of eating at an Iron Chef’s restaurant, not just for food.

After the night was over, I realized that pleasure comes not just from an act itself, but from the anticipation of the act. I could have walked into that restaurant without a reservation, waited for a table, and had the same meal and excellent service, but it would not have been the same. The months of anticipation and the act of dressing up made the event special.