Backlog

So, I didn't finish up posting the stories from Kansas City, so I figured I'd make a little headway on that road that I had kind of given up going down...that didn't work.

One of my last days there, me and Elizabeth and Amy went down to the Plaza to have a little fun. We went to this place called, well, I can't remember what it was called at the moment, but, it was like a local old-time burger joint. We went to this place, expecting at least a little bit of quality out of it. Well, we order the food (2 doubles and a single) and ask for salt in the bag, to which the girl replies that she already put the salt in. We get our food and drive away, heading towards the fountain we want to sit and eat by. *pause this train of thought for a new story*

We need to find a place to park, so we drive all around the surrounding streets and find nothing. As we drive down the street the fountain is on, what should we come upon but a parking space, smack dab in front of P.F. Chang's. It has a 2 Hour Parking sign right next to it, but a few steps ahead is a group of valets for the restaurant. One approaches.

Elizabeth: "Is this a valid parking spot?"

Valet man: "yeah."

awkard moment where everyone's wondering what everyone's thinking

Liz: "So, I mean, legally we can park here?"

Valet man: "yeah"

Valet man stands at the window waiting for us to get out of the car to let him do his valet duty until Amy leans forward from the passenger seat and declares (loudly):

Amy: "with a D! Vali-D"

Reader should here note the similarity between "valid" and "valet". Or maybe that should have been noted right after Elizabeth used the word.

Eventually, the poor valet man comes to the conclusion that yes, we will be parking in that spot. He walks back onto the sidewalk while oh so helpfully cautioning us:

"Just don't hit the Benz in front of you or the Hummer behind ya."

So, we got our parking spot and crossed over to our fountain. Here we are, we sit down on the bench, open up our bag and pass out the burgers. To our great (great) sadness, every single on of our hamburgers is wrong! 2 singles and a double instead of 2 doubles and a single, all three of which having condiments that were the most pathetic you've ever seen at the same time that they were the most shocking ever seen.

The pitiful pickle:
The gargantuan (raw!) onion on Amy's burger...does anyone know how to obtain the simple grilled onions and mayo promised on the menu????:
We decide that we're too hungry and went through way too much for the parking space to go back to the place now, so we brave the burgers. We are soon serenaded by a four-man drum line walking like soldiers in beat with each other coming down the sidewalk to perform on the corner. They had a cool, though repetitive, routine.

Our friendly fountain:

A walk down the street led us to Pottery Barn, where we inquired about the replacement of spoons and investigated the differences in dishes, so on and so forth. Liz actually achieved some things, finding useful gifts that she'd been needing; Amy and I were silly.
In the mirror (Amy is displaying the giant paper clip she was SURE I needed for school):
The old time phone I wanted to get my dad for Father's Day like 4 years ago...of course I didn't have $60 to spend on a phone at Pottery Barn when I was twelve. Maybe someday...:
Hijacking the nice Pottery Barn couches for some relaxing reading:
Did you know that one of the official jobs of groomsmen/ushers is to ask single women to dance at the reception?? Huh? Did you know? Now my expectations are raised...:
Fun, fun! Oh, and, we bought the nice valet man a chocolate on the way back to the car.

So then, we wanted to obtain retribution (or, fix the burger joint situation) for our previous food experience, so we drove over the place. The salt-girl recognized us, so even though we had the bag that I had so graciously dug out of the garbage moments after throwing it in (well, dug isn't the right word...with lightning fast reflexes, such as those of Jason Bourne, I quickly reached my hand in and drew out the bag in a fashion so that no one would notice that I had just stuck my hand in a public garbage can), we didn't need it. We explained our situation, and she said in a kind of well-this-is-kind-of-strange-but-maybe-I-could-do-a-little-something-timid-for-you voice, "Well, I could give you another double." We respond with "Well...*indistinct talking* chocolate, strawberry, and vanilla. Thanks!" And we finished off our outing with three delightully free milkshakes.