Something I forgot to tell you

Off the side of the road
Off the side of the road

A nice thing about living in Indiana is that once you get off the Interstate highways and State highways, you come across scenes like this quite often. When I took this picture this morning I had planned to come home and grayscale the picture. But when I looked at it on my computer screen I decided that color was the right way to go. I like this picture a lot.


A lot has been going on around here, and some of the things about which I intended to post have fallen through the cracks.  I have notes on my cell phone, and notes in a notebook, and I’m trying desperately to remember a few other things that were never jotted down. I’m sure I’ll miss some of those things which may lead to a further follow-up post or two. Well, let’s get started with the notebook since it is sitting in front of me.

During the Memorial Day weekend, Cindy informed me that we were meeting a group of her friends for lunch at a Sports Bar that had been recommended by one of the friends who said she loved the place. No one else in the group had ever been there. Well, I had been there two iterations back when it was a Cajun restaurant, and there had been a Thai restaurant in there later, but I hadn’t been there since the Cajun food (which had been quite good…but I digress even further).

So, Cindy and I arrived at the appointed hour. We were lucky to find a parking spot. When we walked into the place it seemed to be packed with bikers. That was somewhat surprising since there were only a handful of motorcycles in the parking area. I decided that it was a biker-wannabe bar. And they were loud.

We were the first of the group to get there, and we were able to secure a table for six, our group number. The others arrived and sat down, except for the woman who had recommended the place. She immediately went to another table and started talking to the only other people in the place who were not dressed like bikers. We waited patiently, perusing the menu and the specials chalked on the blackboard, though they could only find three menus for our group of six. We were finally able to get the friend’s attention so that she would join us and so that we could place our food orders.

We went around the table, placing our orders in quick time (we were hungry) until it came to the woman who recommended the place. When the waitress got to her, she turned around in her chair and yelled to the people she had been talking to, “Are the burgers good here? Are they juicy?”

At that point I said to her, “You love this place but you don’t know if the food is good?”

She got a look on her face that said, “What a silly question.” But she stammered and said, “I like to try different things.”

Everyone else at the table seemed to think that was a reasonable answer. Well, excuuuuse me.

Cindy had been the first to order, and she ordered the steak special, as did a few others, including our recommender. I ordered a sandwich, another woman at the table ordered a cheeseburger with no cheese. Did I mention that some of Cindy’s friends are strange? And then we waited. Oh, in fairness, the drink orders came quickly.

Have you ever been in a restaurant where the service was bad? I’m sure you have been. This place started bad and kept on reaching for new heights…or maybe it is depths. First, they decided it was alright to deliver the food haphazardly, not all at once. The first to be served was the recommender who got her steak. Then one or two other people got their food, but not Cindy or me or the other steak order. The recommender cut into her steak and found that, though ordered rare, it was well done. A server, not ours, was waved down and made aware of the problem. He summoned the manager. The manager whisked away her overdone steak and promised a new one. A few minutes later a new steak was set before her. I started laughing, and when Cindy asked me why, I pointed out that the recommender had been served two meals while we were still waiting for our initial order.

One of our other tablemates corralled the manager and pointed out that half of our table had not been served yet. He went back to kitchen and found our food. My sandwich was actually good, though the onion rings I had ordered were cold, yum.

I won’t be returning to that establishment. Cindy says she won’t either. It won’t hurt their business because the biker wannabes seemed to be having a good, loud time.