Happy Hours...
Crime Dog's already gabbed about Friday's Happy Hour here. However, he left some of the story out for me to tell...nice of him.
First, I have to admit at my own bad timing. Two months after I move away from BFE, we schedule a Happy Hour a couple of miles from my old house. The drive over during rush hour once again reinforced my deep feelings of adoration for my new commute.
Teakwoods, the one at Williams Field and Gilbert, had a set of tables put together for us on their patio. It was a great night for sitting outside. We had somewhere between 20 and 25 people show up. I was quite excited that a couple who've been members for two years showed - it was their first club event and they came because it was near their house. Hopefully, they liked us enough to keep coming out.
I'll digress a bit from the story (as I often do) to say how great it is when you have a good server at a restaurant and bar. It's not often you do. There can be the reluctance to split checks, the infrequent visits to the table to see if you need another drink and the forgetting to bring your order out. It makes me just want to say, "Look, you must be working to make money. Helpful hint, you'll make a lot more money if you take care of your customer."
We had a great server on Friday. She kept me on my own tab without me asking, managed to attach it to my name without asking it and remembered my drink of choice was Miller Lite. I gave her $20 on a $12 tab and was darn happy to do so.
Back to the story. The diehards (Crime Dog, the Talleys, the Dudleys and me - why am I always in the diehard group? Is it because I just can't say no?) were getting ready to move the party when Crime Dog tells me "I have to buy a cake and you need to go with me." I respond with, "Why me?" and he comes back with this logical gem, "Because you're a girl."
Huh? I'll admit to the girl part, obviously, but do I seem like a cake expert except for the eating part? I don't think so. Alcohol was clearly a factor in his errand companion selection. Alcohol was clearly a factor in my agreeing to go with him. We hoofed down to Fry's (my old Fry's, I do miss that store) and stumbled in to the bakery to scout out the plainest cake there.
We clearly stood out as the two bakery clerks jumped in to help us. One of them checked the back and found a cake blank - no frosting except for the basic white layer. Crime Dog called The Fetching Mrs. Crime Dog to get her OK on it. He tried to describe it, poorly, while the clerks and I are chiming in with relevant descriptors like "quarter sheet", "cake blank", "marbled cake" and "feeds 12 to 15." TFMCD needed the blank for their daughter's baby shower the next day. He finally got the thumbs up on our choice and we headed to Cafe Posada.
I wrote about Crime Dog's, TFMCD and my adventure at Cafe Posada before. The place hasn't changed much nor has the clientele. We had a good time though and Crime Dog got to sing so all was well.
Until the next morning when my head hurt and I cursed my unwillingness to say no.
First, I have to admit at my own bad timing. Two months after I move away from BFE, we schedule a Happy Hour a couple of miles from my old house. The drive over during rush hour once again reinforced my deep feelings of adoration for my new commute.
Teakwoods, the one at Williams Field and Gilbert, had a set of tables put together for us on their patio. It was a great night for sitting outside. We had somewhere between 20 and 25 people show up. I was quite excited that a couple who've been members for two years showed - it was their first club event and they came because it was near their house. Hopefully, they liked us enough to keep coming out.
I'll digress a bit from the story (as I often do) to say how great it is when you have a good server at a restaurant and bar. It's not often you do. There can be the reluctance to split checks, the infrequent visits to the table to see if you need another drink and the forgetting to bring your order out. It makes me just want to say, "Look, you must be working to make money. Helpful hint, you'll make a lot more money if you take care of your customer."
We had a great server on Friday. She kept me on my own tab without me asking, managed to attach it to my name without asking it and remembered my drink of choice was Miller Lite. I gave her $20 on a $12 tab and was darn happy to do so.
Back to the story. The diehards (Crime Dog, the Talleys, the Dudleys and me - why am I always in the diehard group? Is it because I just can't say no?) were getting ready to move the party when Crime Dog tells me "I have to buy a cake and you need to go with me." I respond with, "Why me?" and he comes back with this logical gem, "Because you're a girl."
Huh? I'll admit to the girl part, obviously, but do I seem like a cake expert except for the eating part? I don't think so. Alcohol was clearly a factor in his errand companion selection. Alcohol was clearly a factor in my agreeing to go with him. We hoofed down to Fry's (my old Fry's, I do miss that store) and stumbled in to the bakery to scout out the plainest cake there.
We clearly stood out as the two bakery clerks jumped in to help us. One of them checked the back and found a cake blank - no frosting except for the basic white layer. Crime Dog called The Fetching Mrs. Crime Dog to get her OK on it. He tried to describe it, poorly, while the clerks and I are chiming in with relevant descriptors like "quarter sheet", "cake blank", "marbled cake" and "feeds 12 to 15." TFMCD needed the blank for their daughter's baby shower the next day. He finally got the thumbs up on our choice and we headed to Cafe Posada.
I wrote about Crime Dog's, TFMCD and my adventure at Cafe Posada before. The place hasn't changed much nor has the clientele. We had a good time though and Crime Dog got to sing so all was well.
Until the next morning when my head hurt and I cursed my unwillingness to say no.
