Pillar of salt

So basically with five lunch breaks left in the town I love, and about 47 restaurants I assumed before Monday that I’d still have time to try, I gots some eatin’ to do.

I ordered a salad from a place where Sia and I celebrated a happy hour or two. They decorate in Steeler everything for the fall season. So, feelin’ the love, right?


I could tell the gal wasn’t listening to me. I even said I’ll wait till she has time to focus to order. She insisted I order anyway while she cashed out someone else and made another person a cocktail.

But she did repeat my order back to me. So I waited.

Lucky me, a guy sits right next to me. There are maybe four people in the whole joint that seats 120. And he lights up cigarette after cigarette.

Now, we used to go there because we could smoke … in our smoking days. But it’s been a long time since I’ve had the urge. To go there OR to smoke.

Well naturally my order comes out fucked up. I mean, FUCKED. UP.

The server took it back to the kitchen. I ran after her to tell her I didn’t even want it. I mean, I had exactly 20 minutes for lunch because it’s a busy day. And I’d just spent the last 10 huffing secondhand Marlboro.

I could hear the kitchen guys yelling at her to LISTEN when a customer orders. They read the ticket right.

(Insert: I took Mom out for her birthday. We said absolutely no onions. The server showed us her pad where she underlined NO ONIONS. We got fucking double onions. I kid you not. The cooks only SAW the word onions. And I didn’t order the $25 dessert they were pushing since they’d probably put onions in that too.)

I’ve had quite enough of having to wait and pay and smile and be a good sport.

In fact, in my little notebook today, I wrote that it feels everyone’s job in corporate America is to be a good sport. First and foremost. The rest is so very secondary.

So I said no thanks. I only had so much time and I don’t have another 10 minutes. Gotta run.

And I did.

Went to one of the other 47 places I will miss. At this point I should have just gone to an event I had to skip because of how much there is to do today. The food was wonderful. Service left a lot to be desired. But getting what I wanted was glorious.

It’s too bad about the first place. The food looked BEAUTIFUL. Minus the dressing and the GALLON OF ONIONS on it. That I guarantee they would have just picked off. 

I notice when I’m leaving a city, everything starts to go wrong. Like it’s the universe putting its foot up your ass, Red Foreman-style, to make you not look back.

I will look back. I will pillar-of-salt look back. I will pine and do everything I can to come back. Just, not to these places that insist on shoving their onions in my face.

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