On restaurants and water

On thing I love about the good ole US of A is that when you go to any restaurant, the water is free. For my whole life I just thought I was a cheap date, but it turns out that I actually just really like water. The more refills, the better.

One thing that I don't like is when we go to a fast food place. They give you water in a 6 ounce cup. When my husband orders the 32 ounce (medium) coke, and I order a water, what makes you think that I only want the infant amount?

In that topic, since being back (and being in nearly a constant state of road trip), I've remembered how much I really don't like going to fast food places in the first place. They are kind of like an abusive boyfriend. They don't treat you well, everyone knows that they're not healthy for you, but you keep going back because you think they might have something to offer you. Or I imagine. I've been fortunate that I've not had an abusive boyfriend. But I've seen them on TV. Sorry if this is the worst analogy ever. I haven't blogged in a while, and I feel compelled to type something.

Speaking of fastish food, about a week ago on the road, we stopped at a panera for some lunch. I'm a fan of "you pick two" so I can have a cup of the broccoli cheddar and what ever sandwich suits my fancy (that, and a french baguette). Anyway. We were enjoying our lunch. Steve finished his and was sitting in the standard "I'm finished" way (leaning back, arms folded, plate empty except for a used napkin and overturned silverware), while I am contentedly dipping my bread into my half empty bowl of soup (I'm not a pessimist. I was in the middle of emptying the bowl, therefore it was half empty). This young-ish worker comes over to our table and says politely to Steve:

"Sir, can I take you plate for you?"

Steve says sure, and the boy picks up the plate and turns to me:

"Ma'am? Can I take your plate for you?"

I, with my mouth full, pieces of bread in each hand (dripping with soup), manage to say:

"Um....no thank you, I'm still eating."

How could you be mad? He was very polite. Not one ounce of common sense. Ah well. To tie it all together, one thing that I've noticed about being back in the US is that people are so eager to keep checking up on you and rush you right on out of a place so that someone else can sit at your table. I kind of like being able to sit there until I'm done, and then ask for the receipt. That is, if you can find a wait staff to give it to you.

Thanks if you've read this far. And thanks if you still read this blog. Sorry it's been a month or so. I shall try to be better.