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Jun. 30th, 2021
A chain of unfortunate events
Jun. 30th, 2021 05:29 pmThis all happened on Sunday.
My show inRoastRoseburg had been canceled. I'd gotten up early, checked out of my motel, and gone down to pick up my pots and pack up my booth, and by 8:30 am, everything was in the van and ready to go.
Had I not been so efficient, I coulda gone back to my motel room and flopped in the air-conditioning until 11. As it was, I decided I'd earned a proper breakfast, not just the cup of yogurt I'd managed to keep from spoiling in a record-hot weekend without a mini-fridge. (Ice. Lots of ice.)
There was a member of a small regional diner chain (okay, it was Shari's) across the parking lot from the motel, so I masked up, went in and ordered a Farmer's Breakfast. Eggs, sausage, hash-browns, toast. (Nothing at all like my real breakfasts on the farm, where I was lucky to get a bowl of Cheerios before running for the school bus.)
The sausage was tasty, the eggs easy-overed perfectly, the potatoes crispy and hot. There was one bit that looked a little burnt, so after my first few bites, I picked it up for a closer look.
It was a sheet metal screw.
Well-seasoned, black with grease. No idea how long it had been hiding out on the flat-top, but it could have been months. I flagged my waitress, who was properly appalled, and called her manager. He was very relieved I hadn't bitten into it (so was I), had no idea where it had come from, took it to investigate. Came back later to tell me there were stainless steel drawers under the grill, and sure enough, the screws were getting loose. Oh, and he comped me my breakfast.
I left a five-dollar tip for the waitress--no reason she should suffer, right?--and drove home.
Spent the rest of the day sprawled under the ceiling fan in our darkened bedroom, steaming gently. By supper time, I was in no condition, or mood, to cook, so I suggested we get dressed again and go out to eat. (Our first restaurant experience since, oh, last February.) Wasn't in the mood for anything in particular besides cold air, and there's a Shari's just few blocks away, at Santa Clara Square, that we'd never visited. So that's where we went.
Came in the door, and the greeter calls out that the AC has broken, it's 93°, and is that okay with us? It's not okay, so we go back to the car. Denise remembers that there's another Shari's out on West 11th, so that's where we go.
This time, we don't even open the door. There's a sign on the glass saying "AC is Broken. It's HOT in here."
We briefly consider driving over to Springfield to try for a Hat Trick, but in the end, pull in at an Applebees, where it's noisy, but cool.
My show in
Had I not been so efficient, I coulda gone back to my motel room and flopped in the air-conditioning until 11. As it was, I decided I'd earned a proper breakfast, not just the cup of yogurt I'd managed to keep from spoiling in a record-hot weekend without a mini-fridge. (Ice. Lots of ice.)
There was a member of a small regional diner chain (okay, it was Shari's) across the parking lot from the motel, so I masked up, went in and ordered a Farmer's Breakfast. Eggs, sausage, hash-browns, toast. (Nothing at all like my real breakfasts on the farm, where I was lucky to get a bowl of Cheerios before running for the school bus.)
The sausage was tasty, the eggs easy-overed perfectly, the potatoes crispy and hot. There was one bit that looked a little burnt, so after my first few bites, I picked it up for a closer look.
It was a sheet metal screw.
Well-seasoned, black with grease. No idea how long it had been hiding out on the flat-top, but it could have been months. I flagged my waitress, who was properly appalled, and called her manager. He was very relieved I hadn't bitten into it (so was I), had no idea where it had come from, took it to investigate. Came back later to tell me there were stainless steel drawers under the grill, and sure enough, the screws were getting loose. Oh, and he comped me my breakfast.
I left a five-dollar tip for the waitress--no reason she should suffer, right?--and drove home.
Spent the rest of the day sprawled under the ceiling fan in our darkened bedroom, steaming gently. By supper time, I was in no condition, or mood, to cook, so I suggested we get dressed again and go out to eat. (Our first restaurant experience since, oh, last February.) Wasn't in the mood for anything in particular besides cold air, and there's a Shari's just few blocks away, at Santa Clara Square, that we'd never visited. So that's where we went.
Came in the door, and the greeter calls out that the AC has broken, it's 93°, and is that okay with us? It's not okay, so we go back to the car. Denise remembers that there's another Shari's out on West 11th, so that's where we go.
This time, we don't even open the door. There's a sign on the glass saying "AC is Broken. It's HOT in here."
We briefly consider driving over to Springfield to try for a Hat Trick, but in the end, pull in at an Applebees, where it's noisy, but cool.