Happy Birthday and First Date!

Yesterday, a party of three (my friend, her teenage daughter and myself) crashed my son's restaurant while he was working his shift.

My son is what I would call an experiential documentary film maker, which means that he only makes documentaries on issues and things he experienced or witnessed himself. It's a very expensive endeavor and to support his travel and other costs, he works at a Micheline-star restaurant in Atlanta.

Before his work shift, I took him to The Odyssey movie in a true IMAX 70mm theater, which I wrote about here. I thought it would be nice to bracket his birthday with my late-night appearance at his restaurant with a cake.

I called his restaurant the day before to make a reservation and the hostess promised me she'd say nothing to him and tell other staff to keep it a secret. I also cleared bringing his favorite Kyiv cake to the restaurant.

We arrived exactly on time and were struck by how many people were at the restaurant, at 8 pm on a Thursday night. Even those who had reservations had to wait for the tables, including us.

While we were waiting, I spotted a couple that was also in the waiting area. They were both extremely good-looking, if not stereotypical: she had long blond curly hair and bluish gray eyes, and an athletic petite body wrapped in a short-skirted dress. He was dark and handsome. Both impeccably dressed and put together, but this is a restaurant that people dress up for, which we observed plenty.

In about three minutes, the floor manager came up to the couple and led them away, "Your table is ready, please follow me."

We got seated at a small table for four about two minutes later and I immediately noticed that the couple was sitting right next to us. We even shared the same server, a pleasant and attentive young man named Emmanuel.

When he came up to us, I told him who we were and asked not to tell my son we were there yet, for it to be a surprise. Emmanuel smiled at me and said, "It will be hard as he is right there!"

He showed me at the open kitchen that was making kebabs and I saw my son right there, indeed. He has a fancy title of "exposition chef" at the restaurant but essentially what he does is checking the order tickets and making sure the orders go out the way they are supposed to. He also takes laps around the restaurant checking in on the patrons and asking if everything is fine.

I hide my face behind the menu, hoping my son won't see me. I explain to Emmanuel that we came for a short visit, just to give my son a cake, but we would like to order some starters just like regular patrons. He takes our order and the cake with enthusiasm and disappears for about a minute. Then he comes back to take the order from the young couple.

In about 5 min, still looking at the menu, I hear a voice I'd recognize in a million, "Are you being taken care of, Mom?" He looks at all of us, smiling.

Our cover is blown. I'm embarrassed because my son had told me many times I could come to his restaurant only when it's not his shift. So, I thought he'd be annoyed but he seemed to be happy. I tell him everything's great, we are in good hands with Emmanuel, which he confirms and goes back to the kitchen.

Emmanuel brings the young couple's starters and our drinks. I'm watching the couple. I can't hear what they are talking about but I can see that the guy is very attentive, serves the girl like a gentleman, and is an excellent listener. He is also very polite and respectful to Emmanuel, which I like a lot.

When our starters arrive, we eat them with gusto. Everything in that restaurant looked and tasted as if it was from a million-dollar menu. I'm still watching the young couple to the left from me and ask my companions in Russian, "Do you think they are on a date?" We talk about it in Russian, and come to no agreed conclusion.

"I am itching to ask them," I said, and my friend's teenage daughter gave me a look I know too well from my son -- GenZ have a completely different view of privacy and boundaries even in public places. "I will be really nice about it, giving them compliments and telling them I'm just curious." Still a vigorous shake of the head from my friend's daughter.

Emmanuel comes back to serve the main dishes to the couple and ask if we are doing alright. I order some kebabs to share and ask him, waving for him to lean to me, "Do you think this couple is on a date?"

"Ahhm," he hesitates, "they seem to be a little too familiar for a date, very comfortable with each other." Good observation.

"Maybe coworkers then, on a first date?" I suggested.

"Yeah, you might be right about that," Emmanuel says and disappears again.

Right about that time, the guy goes to the bathroom. I sit there for a little, contemplating if I should ask, but then my curiosity wins.

I lean to the girl, "Excuse me, I've noticed you when we were waiting to be seated in the hallway."

"Oh, me too, I saw you then too!" she smiles at me.

"I'm sorry for being nosy, I just can't help myself, so curious. But then I'm old enough to do this without feeling embarrassed. Are you on a date?"

"Yes," she confirms, nodding her head and smiling. "First date!"

"That's what I thought!" I'm so happy I was right.

"How do you think it's going?" she asks eagerly.

"Oh, I think he is a keeper! He is very attentive, and the way he treats Emmanuel is telling. Good listener, too. And you guys look great together!"

"Oh, thank you so much!" she seems to be relieved.

"And how do YOU think it's going?" I ask right when the guy comes back. She didn't manage to answer before he gave her a questioning look. Emmanuel saved me by bringing our kebabs and I turn back to my table, sharing in Russian what I found out: "First date!"

When we are done, Emmanuel asks if he should bring out the cake. We say yes, and while my son is doing his lap around the restaurant, Emmanuel brings our cake on a nice plate, with the birthday candles already arranged. He is lighting the candles and the young woman on a date asks me, "Is it your birthday?"

"No, it's my son's," I respond right when he comes back from the main hall. Emmanuel calls for him. My son is genuinely surprised. We sing the Happy Birthday song to him, attracting people's attention, and he blows off the candles saying that he needs to get back to work and he'll eat his cake later at home.

I cut the cake, a piece for each of us. My son brought a plate, and asked for a piece for his co-worker and then later -- for his sous chef. I also gave a piece to Emmanuel, which he happily accepted. And we still had some cake left.

I halved the remainder and then cut it into two pieces. "You wanna give it to the couple on the first date?" my friend asked. She knows me too well, and helps me put it on a spare plate and cut it into two again.

I give it to the young woman, "Please accept this from us." She takes it gratefully while the guy gives her another questioning look.

"It's the best cake in the world, called Kievsky. It's one of those world-famous Ukrainian things," I explain.

"Oh, really? I'm Ukrainian!" the girls exclaims.

"Oh, really? Do you speak Ukrainian?" I ask a little apprehensively as we spoke Russian before and all Ukrainians understand Russian.

"Oh, no, my grandparents immigrated here, so I don't speak the language," she says and I am relieved. Not that we said anything bad but it would have been embarrassing if she'd understood our conversation about them in Russian. Although, it was very loud, too, so I'm not sure she could hear anything.

Another co-worker of my son comes and whispers in my ear, "I also made a cake for your son, we are going to give it to him in about 10 min upstairs, and you are invited!" I am honored and happily accept.

Then the restaurant manager came up to us and introduced himself, giving a lot of praise for my son's hard work. I thank him, praising the restaurant and the food. He goes back to his business.

We need to fill time before the co-workers' surprise for my son. I ask Emmanuel to bring our bill, he smiles at me broadly and says, "There's no bill for you." He then waves at the manager who confirms that we shouldn't worry about the bill and it's their pleasure to have met and served us. I ask Emmanuel to pack the rest of our cake for my son and go to the bathroom.

Just as I come out of the bathroom, my son's co-worker leads me into a private dining room with a large table. Seems like the entire shift of the servers and food runners is there, and the sous chef. They bring my son in, sing Happy Birthday to him and present him with two cakes. He takes it all humbly and gratefully.

I'm on the verge of tears. I thank them all for loving my son and we say good-bye, leaving them to eat the cake as a team. As we take all our things from our table, I tell the young couple that it was very nice to meet them and wish them all the best. "He is a keeper!" I whisper to her again and she smiles back.

So, I've had two celebratory occasions in one night. And you know what was the best about yesterday? - Knowing and seeing that someone you love is loved and respected by others.