Greg

Comfort for the feet vs comfort for the ears

My shoes squeek.  Wait, that's not quite accurate.  My most comfortable shoes squeek. 

For some reason it's much worse on carpet than on hard surfaces (concrete, tile or hardwood floors).  But nonetheless, for the places I'm walking most of the day - they squeek.

This would be a serious problem if I was a cat burglar, but fortunately I work with computers instead so it's only just really annoying.  But still, what do you do?  Do keep the shoes because they're the best you own?  Do you replace them with another pair of the same hoping it was a flaw of this particular pair and not a flaw in the design?  Or do you just suck it up and get annoyed when you walk on carpet?

So far, I've stuck with the last option.  Maybe it'll be like living next to a train where eventually you don't even notice it anymore.

The "restaurant retry" value (or a less than stellar review of a restaurant)

What's the "restaurant retry" value?  It's the number of times you're willing to try a place after you had a non-stellar (could be just 'ok', could be 'bad', could be 'awful') experience there.  Why does this come up?  Last night we went out to dinner with a couple friends to Cafe Lago in nearby Montlake.  Let's just say I was a bit, hmmmmmm, underwhelmed.

Caveat emptor - I did order the steak in a clearly pasta / pizza joint.  OK, disclaimers out of the way - I ordered what sounded like a very nice steak with a basalmic reduction on it and shoestring potatoes.  The steak was supposed to be medium-rare.  When it comes out I'm only a couple bites into it that I realize that it's much closer to rare than I enjoy.  Our waiter hadn't swung by to ask how everything was, so it was only when everyone else was half done with their meals that I got to send it back indicating it was too rare.  Time passes, everyone else finishes their meals, and my steak returns - WELL done.  Very well done.  Not a trace of pink, much less red.  Clearly this is not somewhere you send back food.  A couple minutes later the waiter stops back by and asks whether the steak is "closer to done".  Closer?  It's about 5 stops past 'done'!  Seriously - all it takes is a 5 second glance to realize that this is no longer a 'medium-rare' steak, or even a 'medium' steak.  Or even a 'medium-well' steak.  Sheesh!

The two immediate questions that come to mind are:

1. How to tip?  While the service for everyone else's meal was OK (and their food seemed to be good) I hold the waiter partially responsible for the travesty that was my steak.  He could/should have checked the order to see what I had asked for, or asked me again while he was taking it back if he wasn't sure how I ordered it.  Yes, I admit that I'm also partially responsible - I could have reminded him specifically that I asked for medium-rare when sending it back and also should have immediately complained when it came back so overcooked.

2. Do I go back?  In this case, yes I'll end up giving it one more try.  The pizza looked quite nice and everyone else's pasta sounded like it was good.  But if it's anything other than excellent?  Well - there are just too many nice places in Seattle to frequent somewhere that doesn't deserve it.

Cafe Lago in twenty words or less?  Apparently the Lasagne is excellent.  The ravoli is good.  The ambience is nice.  Just don't order the steak.

Photos from New York

The souvenir you don't want to come back with

Clodagh and I took a long weekend last weekend and went to New York City to visit Jude, see Lisa, and just act like tourists :)  All-in-all it was a very good trip with stories that may become blog posts in time.

What's the souvenir you don't want to bring back with you?  No, I'm not talking about a tattoo someone gets during a drunken escapade (though that would be bad too - unless you're big into tattoos).  I'm talking about the cold that I've been fighting the last few days...  This is a terrible time of year to be stuck in a plane for multiple hours if you've been tired lately or think your immune system is otherwise fatigued.  I knew it was a bad sign when the guy in our row could be overheard talking into the cellphone about how sick he was, etc., etc.  Fortunately we were able to move to a different row a few minutes later when it became clear that that plane was not going to be full - but it looks like the damage was already done :(

What do you say to the crazy taxi driver?

Had a strange experience last night.  My group had it's holiday party downtown at Benaroya Hall.  Food, drinks, music, seeing nerdy folks all suit-ed up - what could be better? :) .  A couple friends were having their group's holiday party a few blocks away, so after hanging out at our party for a while, we made our way to their party.  Unfortunately about twenty minutes after getting there, I had an absolutely pounding headache and decided I was going to head home, take a painkiller, and go to bed.

Here's where it gets strange.  Eventually I caught a taxi and was on my way.  The guy driving was from Southeast Asia (I think Cambodia because he kept talking about the Cambodian women).  The picture on the placard in the taxi was a Indian man with a beard and a turban.  In no way was it a picture of my driver.  A little unexpected, but no big deal.  And then, somehow, the conversation turns to older men marrying younger women.  WAY younger.  He starts talking about these seventy-year old men marrying girls.  Seventeen was the OLD side of what he was talking about.  And it was in a way like "aren't these girls clever - these old guys are going to die soon and the girl will get all of his money." 

At that point what do you say?  It's a cold night out.  I'm far enough away from home that I don't really feel inclined to walk the rest of the way.  And I've had a few drinks at the party (hence the cab) so I'm even less inclined to walk home, and doubtful that I should really engage in a thoughtful debate on why I don't believe that teenage girls and septuagenarian men should be engaging in marriage.

Then again, this taxi driver had nothing on the self-styled "Vanilla Gorilla" from last year's holiday party.