|A chocolate heel|
If you read my last post, and really you should have to keep from hurting my feelings, then you know that Messing is my Aunt’s term for just going out and about doing nothing in particular. Teri’s family calls it scooter-pooting. When the 8-year old asks what we’re doing, Teri will always respond, “We’re just out scooter-pooting,” and suddenly I envision older people with flatulence issues while riding those motorized scooters at Wal-Mart. Another reason why I avoid the place.
Our Messing Thursday night involved meeting a new writer friend down in Vero Beach. It was an enjoyable trip and she turned out to be a great lady. We even met a couple of her fellow authors and purchased some books and jams while the Atlantic played background to a guitarist trying to sell his songs. It was a fun time and I look forward to making another trip.
Once we had toured all the booths, it was time to head back, stopping for dinner on the way. Once we hit Indian River Boulevard, Teri points out a chocolate shop.
“It’s after seven,” I remind her. “We need to get some dinner and then it’s an hour drive back home. We don’t have time to stop.”
“It was right beside a cigar store.”
“Where was it at?” Soon, I’m cutting through parking lots to find their little chocolate shop. And it was tiny.
The shopping plaza was a small, concrete, two-story building with some of the parking spaces under the second floor. It was also spaced out for compact cars and my van practically took two of those spaces. I felt sorry for my van being in such a tight squeeze and patted it as we walked away. “It’s ok, baby, those skinny cars don’t look as healthy as you.”
The chocolate shop was about the size of our living room with two small tables in case you wanted to enjoy your treat there and three glass cases of specialty delights. They even had chocolate in the shape of heels so people could put a foot in their mouth. The girls sampled some of the different chocolates and Sarah and the 8-year old picked out treats to take home. I pretended to wait patiently.
With wax paper bags dangling from their hands, we finally leave the chocolate shop and make it to the cigar store. Sarah and the 8-year old wait outside as it’s really not a place for a child. This is my store.
It wasn’t much bigger than the chocolate shop and it was empty of patrons, which I found surprising. It did have one neat little addition I had not seen in other cigar shops. Against the north wall were lockers, some with engraved name plates on the front. As I browsed the cigars, one of the girls asked the owner about the lockers.
“It’s where people can store their stuff, like cutters, special lighters. Most keep their booze there.”
Not a bad idea. The owner doesn’t need a liquor license and avoids the cost of having to purchase beverages. The men can enjoy their favorite alcohol with their cigar and everyone is happy. Barnes and Noble should try this idea. I’m sure that would gain a larger crowd of men in their stores. If Wal-Mart did it, I probably wouldn’t complain about them so much.
After I purchased a couple of the house brands, we decided it was time for dinner. We hit the road again and eventually came upon an Applebee’s. I was in the mood for a steak and I enjoy the Applebee’s back home.
I should have waited until we returned home.
This place was small and in need of a facelift. It was busy, I will give them that, but the majority of the clientele seemed as if they had just gotten off the tour bus from the Home for Seniors. The average age had to be eighty-five.
“Isn’t it past these people’s bed times? The early bird ended four hours ago.”
“They must have just woken up from their third nap,” Char said as she patted my arm.
|The service here is slow|
The other part that annoyed me was the twenty-year old with the microphone spouting out trivia questions in-between songs. I’m not sure why restaurants have suddenly developed this need to entertain their guests. Some have taken to hosting karaoke during the evening meal. Personally, I hate it. I avoid places with televisions, because one of the reasons I go out to eat is to enjoy good food with the people I’m out with.
Of course, then the waitress brought us our food and I understood why they were trying to distract us.
I don’t know why restaurant people think that the customer is stupid. Maybe most are. However, I know when my food has sat too long on a heating rack before being brought out to me and I know when something was forgotten and just tossed on top with hopes that I’ll think it was supposed to come that way. I’ve been in the food industry. I know mistakes happen. However, own them and don’t try to lie your way out of them. Not all of us are as stupid as you wished we were. (Some people should follow that line of thought in their personal lives, as well).
We suffered through the meal, vowing never to go back to that Applebee’s again. Once we had stomached all we could, we were back in the van and heading home. The 8-year old fell asleep and the rest of us chit-chatted about our evening as the Broadway musical, Tarzan, played in the background. Hey, I drive; I pick the music. Otherwise, I’d be napping with the 8-year old.
Overall, it was a fun adventure and we plan on doing it again. That’s the fun part about going out Messing. You’re always able to find something new and exciting. And it always gives me something to write about the next day. We’re going on another one Wednesday night. I’ll tell you all about it Friday, but until then, get out of the house and make your own adventures. If you find something interesting, I’d love to hear about it.
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