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The last time I went to a Japanese steakhouse was before my high school junior prom. I was wearing a fetching strapless tea length gown, with a bow across the chest. And although I was overdressed -- as were my friends in their prom gowns and rental tuxes -- I remember the restaurant as being quite nice: Filet Mignon on the menu. Classy decor. The kind of place you dress up for.

So carrying this image in my mind, I was in for a shock when we went to Benihana last night. And then left without eating.

"I really don't think you should get the sushi here," I whispered to George, taking in the grungy dining room. Everything looked dirty and rundown, from the sticky tables to the soiled floor.

I waitressed my way through college, and know first hand that the public areas at a restaurant are always cleaner than the kitchen. If the dining room is grotty, chances are the chefs are keeping company with cockroaches and rats in the back.

When I was kid, it used to drive me crazy when my mom would fret about how clean the kitchen of a restaurant was. She would ask random people if they knew how hygenic the kitchen staff was, while I'd roll my eyes and say, "Moooooom, stop asking people that."

I haven't gotten to the point where I'll poll strangers, but I will walk out of a restaurant that doesn't meet my cleanliness standards. Which is what we did last night.

"Do you want to stay?" George whispered.

"God, no," I said, and we got up and headed for the door.

On our way out, we passed a group of twentysomething patrons heading in. One of the girls in the party was wearing a string bikini. That's it. Just the bikini. No cover up, no tank top. She was eating dinner in four triangles of nylon, held together by a few pieces of string.

George immediately dubbed the restaurant "Hoochiehana."

We're living in a world where a supposedly sophisticated woman like Barbara Walters is outraged to have a woman breastfeeding in her presence ("There's a NIPPLE somewhere near by . . . maybe I can't see it, but I know it's there, and I DON'T LIKE IT!"), but it's perfectly acceptable to go out to eat when you're mostly naked. It was bad enough when the hippy chicks were wearing jeans so low you could see ass cracks and thong straps, but now they've decided to dispense with clothing altogether. Apparently these days boobs are only acceptable when they're on display -- preferably after they've been stuffed with silicone -- but if you dare to use them for their intended purpose in public, well that's crossing the line.

Posted 27 June 2005 at 04:59 PM