So, it’s been pointed out that I haven’t been giving Catching Marbles the love it deserves so today I decided to go back to how I started, going somewhere and then writing a blog entry on the same day. I know, crazy right? I have learned my lesson however. This is a task best managed with one easy destination, not four in a row after an ungodly amount of driving.
Today we found ourselves ovenless after losing the appliance in a bum poker game with the local cryptid gang known only as The Spooksters. Take as much of the previous statement as truth as your whimsical heart desires. Either way this seemed like the perfect excuse to try a new place to eat.
“Where are we going?”
“Wall-e’s.”
“Ooooo, I always wanted to be served by a trash robot.”
I mean no offense when I say this but this new eatery seemed to be situated in a warehouse which… kinda made me think I might actually luck out on the garbage picking robot helper. But alas, no. It’s a sports bar. How terribly mundane. It was pretty big with a nice outdoor patio and the usual industrial chic decorating style you’d expect. There were TVs on all sides airing the World Cup match – France v Senegal with 3-1.
Other than that the place was empty save for a teenager taking food orders and a bar tender taking drink orders. I wasn’t holding my breath but kept an open mind. I ended up ordering a honey-mustard chicken sandwhich and heavily taxing the garlic fries my companion ordered. He had a burger and a hotdog (I refuse to say weiner because I’m not 5 years old.) Our order came out in little cardboard baskets with plastic silverware. I raised an eyebrow.
And then… I was kinda shocked. Everything was really good! When my chicken sandwhich came out it was so tall I asked how I was supposed to get my mouth around it. I expected to hear someone giggle, “PHRASING!” But no, no one did. Instead the Universe stepped up and decided to double down. I bit into this monstrosity and my hands were immediately covered in s̶a̶n̶d̶w̶h̶i̶c̶h̶ ̶s̶p̶l̶o̶o̶g̶e̶ , specialty sauce. This didn’t feel like consent but it was delicious so I tried not to focus too much on how my hands were now sticky enough to climb up the wall like a gecko.
The garlic fries were well proportioned, actually tasted of garlic, and were a lot of fun. My companion was also impressed with both his hamburger and hot dog.
Somewhere in here this place started filling up with people. A bizarre mix of well to do Boomer men, a gaggle of 20 somethings, and the usual people you’d expect to see at a bar, any bar. The Boomers seemed to prefer the patio. No one was paying attention to the match on the TV. Not. One. So much for soccer I guess.
Anyway… twas good eating. And who knows maybe the bar was decent too. My autistic teatotalling ass would be a poor judge of that. I’m happy to be back home and away from the crowds.
