Last night, date night in the city, featured a trip to the famous Mockingbird Campisis Egyptian Restaurant for a large crispy pizza. This is not the best pizza in the metroplex, as the best pizza goes to iFrattellis followed by Scalinis (a distant second). The crust is fair, the mushrooms are canned and rubbery, the black olives are ground into tapenade.

Although knowing not to expect the best pizza in the metroplex, we did hope for a pleasant dining atmosphere surrounded by ancient scowling no- nonsense waiters that kiss the older patrons when the walk in the door. We expect a lot of older patrons. We expect some nice Dean Martin or Frank Sinatra swooning in the background, and our soft conversation in the foreground. I expect to see some big Italian Mafioso visiting from Chicago to happen into the joint, and make all the chatter come to an abrupt stop…but not really.

What I got was a table over my right hand shoulder with two families, one head up by identical twin three year old blonds who very clearly did not want to be there. The two grown adults they brought with them were committed to ruining 30 + people’s date nights in the city, so that they could bring their pwecious miserably adowable baby-waybies to a night out. They would do anything to keep the night of crying going for twenty minutes to an hour or more! Poke the baby, make scary faces at the baby, or a special acrobatic performance of mommy eating at the restaurant table while standing up with the baby…anything to keep the night going!

Bye Bye Campisis.
I'll miss you not.
Moving right along....