I've waited to write not out of laziness (though isn't that always the case?) but to see if what occurred last week was abnormal in any other way than the usual ups and downs of life.
All right, so, had to make another coast to coast trip, some meetings and surprise recognition, and even though you miss everyone, you gotta do it. By the time I arrived, having awoken at Dick O'Clock, even though my body said mid-afternoon, I could use a meal. The suggestion is to "have a good meal, go to a steakhouse or something like that." OK, well, off I go in search of such a place. Ended up at one and even though I was hungry and didn't need to be appetized, I said YES, bring me your largest gulf shrimp. I was delivered 3. I laughed. Bring it on.
Haven't I already established that I don't need such gluttony?
The menu's description simply described flavors and ideals...what arrived was nearly 2 racks of ribs. And this wasn't Big Earl's BBQ and Oil Change Emporium. This is, what attempts to be, "upscale dining." What the fuck?
That wasn't me, that was my stomach. I mean, I knew I wasn't going to finish this, it would finish me, so I kind of just sampled stuff and started to lean over. The main goal was Key Lime pie and why is this crew trying to bring me down? Trying to eat $50 worth of ribs: what kind of decision is that?
The following morning I turned down breakfast because my body remained a "whoa horsey!" +++ By lunch, I thought I could use something. Having arrived to the ballroom, I entered in to see a rather large spread of fresh sandwiches, salads, and drinks. They sat there. Is this...can I? Excuse me do you...?
I waited maybe 20 minutes until an older woman began to serve herself. Well, the gateway is open. Still only needing a modest amount of food, I take a half turkey sando and salad. I sat alone (as it tends to be on work events, or maybe it's my winning personality...or rustic good looks, take your pick). On this table of 4, 1 chair was removed. Then another. Then a 3rd. Well, I need to wrap up this meal and thank goodness I'm not that hungry because of that entire hog that was delivered to--
"Are you in International?"
Uh no, I don't--
"Then you can't sit here."
This dippy old lady pulled my chair back with all the force she could muster, and from either the ceiling or behind (like a surprise attack in pro wrestling) a resort employee took my plate and silverware from my paws.
Why can't I just eat a god damn meal and not either be given and entire buffet or allowed the acceptance to sit in this fucking chair and look at the tropical scenery and get my bearings?
The final evening I was going to get even. Against what, beyond my consciousness, I'm not sure. I took a drink in a giant coconut simply because it matched my wardrobe and never had a sip, leaving it inside a potted plant. I had 3 servings of Grouper because I was in Florida and would have done that anyway. I kept the rum cakes delivered to the table on an ongoing basis, and ordered the fanciest scotch they had. I don't even know that I drank that, but it was to prove a point only to myself. And off I went.
The end was an interesting summary of my life as, outside in the tropical night, I ate a slice of za and considered my fortune. Dining in this town shouldn't have been abnormal, and yet...
