A peek into williamsworld
Denver Travel Blog› entry 3 of 5 › view all entries
I âmetâ William through TravBuddy. He (williamsworld) commented on my blog about attending a Rockies/Giants game and we discovered that we both had a love of baseball and a fond remembrance of Dusty Baker. Me, from his days with the Atlanta Braves. William, because he actually knows Dusty and followed him from his Dodger days forward.
When William let me know that he would be coming in from
After some thought about this whole idea I decided I needed to be brave, and hide behind my wifeâs skirts.
William and I smiled back and forth across TBs site for the next couple of weeks. Each of telling the other how much we were looking forward to it. And to tell the truth, I was. I have no idea why. Really. This was completely out of character for me (Did I mention that?), but still as the day got closer, I didnât come to dread it, like I do for even the company Christmas party.
Friday arrived and we drove the 25 miles from
My strategy for downtown is one of two. I get within the general area of where I am going and take the parking lot I find. That can sometimes cause a lot of walking. Plan B is to rely on someone else and let them take the blame. Today was Plan B. Margo had more recently been to downtown and suggested at the Center for the Performing Arts garage. Why, I donât know, nor did I really care. Once parked, Iâm a happy camper. I walk everyday for exercise and downtown
So with a hop, skip and a jump, or more accurately a walk, trip, and a ride we soon arrived at the corner of Wazee and
We had a reservation, but it wasnât needed. Things hadnât gotten hopping yet. We were seated and William began telling us about a Texas Mongolian place similar to BDs called Genghis Grill. It sounded very close to what we were about to have and William appeared very happy about it. Almost immediately William presented us with
We had almost time to talk before out waiter interrupted to find out if we knew how the system worked. We did, but he had his alternate speech to make, and when he got to point about âif there is anything I can do for you, let me knowâ William inquired, with a grin, about him paying off his credit card bill. It caught me off guard, but the waiter was even half a step behind me. But, after a little back and forth between the two of them, they had the idiosyncrasies of the English language (not saying âanythingâ if you donât mean âanythingâ) settled and we headed to the buffet.
The way this restaurant works is you grab a bowl by the buffet set up. From there you fill it up with an assortment of meats and shrimp, pasta, and various vegetables. From there you move to the end of the buffet and get a ramekin and fill it with a sauce. From there you head over to the grill. The grill in this case is one of two large circular stones. You place your two bowls up on the bar in front, and the cook takes your food. He dumps your food on the stone with a flourish, and then with many machinations, twists, flips and turns of their cooking utensils, they cook your food in front of you. The sauce is added and soon they pour the finished product onto a plate and you are on you way.
Backing up to the âhe dumps your food on the stone with a flourishâ part, our cook was having just a tad too much fun and threw the bowl to the back of the grill onto a cart. Only he missed and it struck heavily and fell to the floor. William and I were on that side of the grill. There was no room left on this side, so Margo was on the other side and didnât really see all of this. But William & I did and we both thought it unprofessional and childish. William took exception to it, and evidently an idea popped into his head. With a wink and a âWatch Thisâ he put his hand over his eye and started to make a fuss about getting hit by something. Both the cook and the grill supervisor began to sweat. OK, they were sweating already, because that grill is hot as hell. But, you get my point. William led them down the path to unemployment and civil liability for just about 10 seconds, before he owned up to the joke. I donât think they appreciated the joke very much. A combination of anger and relief appeared on both faces, with both emotions fighting for primacy. Soon both were ignoring us, suffering under the realization that they both dodged a bullet and had been had. Lesson learned.
We all three went back to our table and dug in. In our absence our waiter had brought our drinks, and left us with rice (kind of sticky) and tortillas. In the next twenty minutes or so we enjoyed the food and had some great conversation. We learned that William had lived in
We worked our way through dinner, with William and me going back for a second helping. Neither of us misses many meals, and this was a particularly good one. At the end of our dinner the waiter appeared, and we asked for the check. It took him awhile and he brought it. William snatched it up and insisted on paying. However, William is a bit of stickler on the details. He insisted on calling the waiter back and getting the right ticket. I guess the 4-5 tables had gotten our guy flustered. So waiter-man disappeared again in search of the correct ticket. Personally I thought he should check his other hand, but who am I to correct a highly trained professional? After another wait, he appeared with the correct ticket and made his apologies. William had the money ready for the past ten minutes and handed it to him. His immediate response was âDo you need any change?â. Now we all know this is waiterspeak for âIs the rest of it my tipâ. I have never really liked this term, and apparently William and Margo liked it even less. William mentioned his annoyance and Margo chimed in that correct way to handle this is to say âIâll be right back with your change.â As it turned out that would have been a lie anyway. He wasnât right back. Apparently our waiter had never seen currency before, as he rushed over to the bar and stood there standing and talking and waiting for something. So we were left waiting again. When he brought Williamâs change out it was all in ones. Now, I never saw the bill, but Iâm guessing it had to be about $50. Even a 10% tip would require a five. William didnât say anything, and he didnât listen to as waiter-man launched into his end of dinner speech, in an obvious pander to increase his tip. I gave up after the third sentence myself. Iâm not sure who much William left, but Iâm thinking this was not the first time Waiter-man had to break up a five for his tip.
But, that was the worst part of our evening. We left and walked out into a drizzle. Rain in
We had thought about dessert and William remembered a place from the âold daysâ called The Market, so that was our next destination. He found it with no problem and wandered around there for a few minutes. William was looking for gelato or something a bit lighter than ice cream, but, no luck. We were soon on our way to the south end of the Mall. We continued chatting and reminiscing. It didnât take anytime at all before we had walked the length of the mall. But the 8 hour drive was catching up to William and he suggested we grab the shuttle back up.
This was effectively good-bye. It was only about five blocks to our stop and then our evening would be done. We said our good-byes with a hand shake and a hug. Margo & I got off, and with one final wave and a big smile William was on his way, and we were walking towards our car.