RSS SPIRIT

Dateline: Nautical themed bar with hot wings special

Why are gay guys better waitrons than other people? Here is a delightful young man, our waiter who lets us know he is gay in the first 20 seconds and proceeds to become our best friend in the next three hours. He also tells us how many wings to order. The hot wings arrive delightfully debauched in a frisky batter. Served with both ranch and blue cheese dipping sauces, as is only proper.

Fact: Advances in dipping sauce technology will boost hotwings over pizza as America's most loved food within the next 5 years.

Do you know who is intimidating? A hot Russian female bartender. These cosmologists are not for your average man. Do not try and win their favor unless you are prepared to give it up 'crime and punishment' style.

Dateline: Upscale burger joint

The history of this establishment, tastefully retold on the menu, is one of a Wisconsin German-American woman who knew her way around a hamburger. She went to New York to seek fame and fortune by selling hamburgers in a street cart. Her genius was rewarded and hamburgers like only she can make are now dispensed around the country in eponymous restaurants.

To not get their burger after that heartwarming tale would be a crime. Do you know what? Sometimes the legend and the burger do match, because it is delicious chopped cow with melted butter, raw onions and a squeeze of ketchup.

Our waitress is lovely and trashy, heavy makeup and cold eyes make us shiver with notions of nibbling her in the alley later. Instead we play bar shuffleboard - perhaps the funnest bar game out there.

Dateline: Dollar burger with beer purchase

This is what it says on the large sign affixed to the corner joint. Is it true? Can it be true? A stern South American waitress (but a beauty) assures us, "Yes, eet come with cheeze, onion, tomato, fries."

What a delightful concept, perfectly complimenting this 'deshabille chic' joint. It contains a drunk, a conspiring couple, a hipster couple, a slutty couple, an African-American couple and us. One of them turns red from laughter, one sneaks bits of bread from a brown paper bag, another smokes like you used to remember people smoking. The whole skull, sinuses and lungs imbued with thick grey smoke.

The waitress misunderstands and brings out another dollar burger and fries. She offers to take it back, but no, why waste? And so another plate is consumed, perhaps with deleterious consequences to the entrails, but for right now it feels like serendipity.

Dateline: Starbucks rush hour line

You circle around at 7:53 to 7:56 each morning. Everyone in line tries to get caffeinated, get going and maybe show off their asses on another daily Starbucks shuffle.

Why else have an ass if you cannot whip it out for the idle diversion of others while waiting to get a Venti?

Please do tip your Starbucks people. They work hard for the money and they know how to keep that line moving, god bless.

But what about the freaks who sit in the Starbucks and look at you while you are in line trying to check out somebody's ass except you have to keep worrying about the lunatic with stern haircut speedily pretending not to look at you as if you are the person who is finally visiting from the vintage jump-ropes chat room?

Hold on a minute now, look at the ass that pulled into the back of line. A real 'chitty chitty bang bang' caboose.

But you cannot get a good glimpse. The caffeinated cashier signals the end of the trip. Cash proffered, caffeine bomb sequestered, you retire to the dairy canister and achieve resurrection with the Ethiopian blend.

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