Pardon the interruption

I was put down and un-write-available for a couple of days there. I was going to put a three-word clue in the title but that would imply that this is some kind of post about cooking and that is definitely not the case. The three words were Columbus Tuna Tacos. Let me explain.

I was obviously out of town this week and for a couple of reasons, this was the trip equivalent of a wood chipper. When I travel I try to limit my going out with other human beings who might want to talk to one night. It has nothing to do with the people themselves but I think I’ve whined about this before; if you have just spent twelve hours in front of a room talking, teaching, and coaching, the last thing you want to do at night is have a three-hour chat. But this is what I do and the people that want to take me to dinner have paid a lot of money to have me out so it is also the right thing. Plus I should mention that they are all great. In more than five years I have only had one that I would never go back and see again.

Anyhow, their town – their rules. They pick the restaurant but I rarely let anyone order for me. My pallet doesn’t understand nuance so I know I am in trouble when the lowest beer on their totem pole is Belgium Budweiser AKA Stella Artois. There were more things I didn’t understand on the menu which forced me to order a steak in a way that no man should ever have to… and that is with the word petite in front of it. If you just want a taste of steak lick a cow. Stop cutting the normal pieces into sizes meant to assuage your guilt. They insisted on ordering the hip appetizer that this place is known for so I went along knowing that I could wash any fowl taste down with my morsel of meat.

What showed up was a rack of raw tuna tacos. As described it made me want to try and the presentation was stunning. I would have taken a picture except they probably would have been confused by me punching myself in the face so I skipped the visual record and just tried to enjoy. It really wasn’t bad. In fact, all the food was good. I could have eaten five more rounds but it was tasty and maybe that’s the problem. I have a silly little rule about eating fish and it has to do with being able to see water within a reasonably short distance from the restaurant. I know you think that is dumb with modern transportation and all but every leg of a trip takes time.

Back at the hotel, I could sense that things were about to go terribly wrong. I have already demolished a hotel bathroom through a food poisoning incident on the road so I began to take precautionary measures. I will spare you the details not because I am afraid of offending but more due to the fact that I am still not quite right. Let’s just say that I fell asleep and woke up with a handicap grab bar imprint on my forehead and both legs still asleep. I made it through the day after finding an early opening pharmacy and taking three times the recommended dose of chemical concrete mix. I’m not sure how Immodium works but it does.

Driving back in a light snowstorm got interesting when a normal fiveish hour trip went almost eight. I thought the plug gave way so I engaged all clamping systems until I found an exit. Once I penguin walked into the facilities I was both impressed and horrified by the bathroom work done by the trucker community. I am no one to give dietary advice but these fellas need to change it up a bit. Every stall nudged open with the sole of a now about to be thrown away shoe was a new take on awful. I confirmed once again that my brain is broken when I wondered if this was the trucker community equivalent of tagging.

Someone marks the bowl with their pattern and you paint over the top in a clear disrespectful maneuver. I stopped myself when I considered it working like QR codes and when I did I realized that some part of my body hit the emergency shut down. I no longer had to go. So back in the car, wide eyes trying to see through the flurries, so close the windshield that my eyes were drying up. It’s a glamourous life I’ve carved out for myself indeed.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s