At this point you're probably thinking, "come on Brian, get to the food." Bear with me gentle reader - I'm coming to that.
Three weeks into the continuing data restore from backup I awoke, showered and approached my laptop, ready for a day at the home-office. (if you have never tried telecommuting, I recommend it highly!) Only an error message "you must restart your computer" greeted me from the screen. It asked me to hold the power button down to restart, so I did. It shut down. I pressed the power button again to restart it, but nothing happened. Nothing at all.
I tried again (startup sound) and relief flowed over me for a moment. That is until I realized that the screen was dark. (lots of troubleshooting later) I reset the pram a good step in Macintosh troubleshooting - but this had no effect. I found myself back in the repair shop.
I'm still coming to the food - don't you worry your pretty little head about that.
I asked them to pull the hard drive out and back the data up for me onto an external drive I brought with me. While they did that, Kris, the tech suggested I get some coffee or something and he'd call me in a bit. So I sallied forth to the closest place I could find, the "American Bakery".
The legend on the sign clearly reads:
AMERICAN BAKERY
Specializing in European Style Breads, Donuts & Cookies
My first question is why not specialize in "American" baked goods - or even go with the name "European Bakery" if the continental pastries are your forte?
However, not dissuaded, I went in anyway.
The room was dimly lit. Three men dressed in goodwill sheik huddled around a coffee counter and peered bleakly at a television showing the Today show. Their gaze shifted briefly my way as I walked past them to the bakery counter. If ever the downtrodden of society chose a bakery instead of a bar, this would be it. They also sell a small quantity of cigars, the small variety with the plastic filter on the end, and roll-your-own tobacco. The cakes hiding under yellowish fluorescent lights were another story.
Apple fritters as big as the hubcap on a 1973 Olds-cutlass lurked there, as did a few cinnamon rolls that looked more like cleaved bowling balls. Behind the counter were the donuts. Coffee, brewed earlier this year, stewed over at the double-u-shaped counter where my earlier acquaintances, Athos, Porthos, and Aramis sat. A lithe girl of about 14 years and Indian heritage, bundled in winter coats, came from behind the counter to help me. A sweet smile and bright eyes were just an invitation to the sugary goodies on the wall.
I ordered a double-chocolate and a blueberry-filled.
The jelly was more like blueberry pie filling and I'd estimate it at around 3/4 of a cup. That's just silly - even in donut-land. The coffee was exactly what I expected; hot, thick, served in Styrofoam, and not very good.
However, if you get a chance, stop in and have a bite.
One note on the musketeers from earlier. If they're still at the counter, you can look forward to a conversation like this.
"Man, when my mom was pregnant with me and she had pains, she just drank a beer. I think all that worry about drinking when a lady's pregnant is stupid. I turned out just fine."
Maybe it's just me...
