"Soup Plantation"  (Westside Today May 2005)

Comedian George Carlin once said, “There's no such thing as fun for the whole family.”

I decided to test out this theory at the Soup Plantation in Brentwood during the dinner hour. 6pm and 7pm is when this popular self-serve restaurant transforms into a quasi-day care center. Dinner this witching hour, the eatery is overrun with more chaos than Election Day in Iraq.

Now, I'm not letting the cat out of the bag. Soup Plantation clearly markets itself to families, right down to its plastic table notes written in third grade scrawl with that cutesy intentional misspelling. You know, the ones that read: “I'll be ripe back.”

Bah Humbug!

On this particular night, the place is filled with screams in high notes that only children and Mariah Carey can hit. I carefully maneuver my tray between tables filled with out-of-control kids. Moments after I sit down, a little boy with a bad cough walks by. I know what's coming and quickly shield my food with my hands; he looks at me and hacks towards my plate.

His mom just smiles.

Moments later, another munchkin comes running by. He is wearing a red plastic fire-fighter helmet; his haggard mom is in hot pursuit. She finally catches him and lifts him up into her arms. The fire chief responds by smacking her in the head several times. She tries to bob and weave to miss his blows, which is probably good training if she ever decides to become a boxer.

At a corner table, I notice some parents smiling as their young daughter runs in and out of the restaurant via the mechanical sliding glass door. She enters and leaves so many times that the sliding door breaks down and comes to a grinding halt. The parents quickly gather their belongings and head for the exit before any of the Soup Plantation employees discover the broken door.

Not every child is completely out of control. The very small ones who are snugly restrained in their high-chairs tend to stay at their table; they have no choice. The toddlers don't appear to be very happy; which reminds me of my childhood.

When I was a kid, I never enjoyed going out to eat. And isn't that the way it ought to be? My father would have killed me if I ran around and screamed loudly in a restaurant, even if there were a fire. Our table was as quiet as a funeral for the Pope.

The only joy I got was when dad dropped a dime into the bottom of his water glass as a “tip” for the waiter. “They should work for it,” my die-in-the-wool Republican father would cackle as we walked out.

Kids today, they just don't know what they're missing.