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Sent from my iPhone

Sent from my iPhone

Sent from my iPhone

Faz also had some very cool coffee cups.

We went to this nice little Greek restaurant in San Francisco called Faz. When they brought out the coffee to go with my dessert, they brought genuine sugar cubes to go with it.

So, I’m at this little Italian restaurant around the corner from my hotel. I’ve been here for almost 45 minutes and haven’t got beyond my drink and appetizer. I don’t want a meal, but I do want to see a desert menu.After sitting here for a little while, the guy who seated me came back and asked if he could get me my drink. So I ordered a beer, and it wasn’t until after he brought me the beer that my waitress finally showed up. I ordered my calamari, and indicated that I might want something else later.

The fragments of my calamari are now sitting here and she just came and talked to me while I was writing this sentence. I asked her to bring me a dessert menu, so she brought it and took away my dishes. We’ll see how long it takes her to come back and ask if I want dessert. It appears that she may have some friends at a table a little ways away, because she sure is talking to them a lot.She’s gone again, and I’m sitting here waiting to order dessert. Too bad I never got that t-shirt that said, “I’m blogging this.” Ooh! Ooh! She finally showed up. I think she visited that other table at least 3 or 4 times since she gave me the dessert menu.This is good tiramisu. Now I’m done. She’s talked to the people at the next table who just came in twice already, but just walks right by me as if I don’t exist. Maybe she thinks they’re worth more because they’re a couple.She basically ignored me almost every time she walked by (if she did walk by, which was rare). Anyway, she’s not going to get my usual high tip, that’s for sure. In fact, I usually give higher than most people even for servers who aren’t that good, but she’s so bad I may actually have to stoop below the 15% range.

It must be due to a combination of factors, like the fact that I have a one-way ticket, and the fact that I got to the airport so early that they graciously switched me to an earlier flight. But, whatever the reasons, I was flagged for special attention at the security checkpoint. Basically this meant doing the same stuff I normally would, with the exception of waiting longer, getting the wand by hand, and getting patted down. They also hand-checked my carry-on and swabbed it for explosives (and probably drugs while they were at it). That still left me with about 2 hours until my new flight time, though.

Since it was about lunch time, I decided to go to Burger King. I decided that “fast food” would be faster if at least one employee could speak English well, since all of the customers only spoke English. Plus, it took them (in my opinion formed by my experience working at Burger King) longer than it should have to make the food. But at least the fries were very fresh.

To top it off, I left my garment bag at the hotel. The reason I didn’t notice it in time was because it was not a regular garment bag (so that I’d notice I had fewer bags than when I came) but it folded up and went inside my suitcase. This leaves me suitless for Miriam’s wedding …

One thing I’ve noticed in a couple of restaurants lately is that the maitre d’s walk very slowly. So slowly that I almost can’t walk slow enough to follow them without stepping on them. At first I thought they were just tired or lazy, but then I figured it out.

At some of these restaurants (I first noticed it at Claim Jumper in Tucson) there are a large number of elderly clients. The speed at which the maitre d’s walk seems to be especially tailored for these clients. I guess they only have one speed, and they figure it’s best to make someone wait for you than to lose them on the way to their table.