I'm old enough to remember the very first Space Shuttle launch. I remember watching the coverage on TV, and the biggest concern was that one of the insulating tiles on the underside of the craft would come loose. If that happened, the reporters stressed, the shuttle would burn up on re-entry. So we all watched the landing with baited breath, but everything was fine, and the shuttle landed safely. Once shuttle flight became routine, even after the Challenger disaster, I, like everyone else, stopped worrying about reentry. You know the rest of the story.
I tried a new restaurant tonight, the Prince Cafe in College Park. A wall of tobacco smoke and loud Middle Eastern music greeted me as I entered the dimly lit interior. The source of the smoke was soon apparent: at every table at least one person was sucking on the long slender hose of a hookah. I felt like I'd entered the Interzone of David Cronenberg's take on Naked Lunch. I felt very out of place.
I'll say this much: the food was good. I had a sweet lassi and the chicken beryani. Both were quite tasty. The service, however, was terrible. After waiting 20 minutes without being approached by any of the waiters, I walked up to the cashier and ordered the food myself. My meal was eventually delivered, and some time after I was done, the plate was taken away. There was no other interaction -- the waiter never spoke to me. He never brought me my check, either, so I had to go up and ask for that, too. I doubt I'll return, but if you have plenty of time and don't mind feeling extremely isolated and alone, check it out.
Finally, David gives Chicago two big thumbs up. Hot damn!
Posted by cradle at February 2, 2003 12:42 AMThis entry looked so lonely with "Comments (0)" underneath it.
I must be bored at work today. I keep emailing the love of my life with insignificant things.
Maybe I will organize my office. David, will you give me a quarter if I really do it?
My cold is vastly improving with my religious regimen of vitamin intake. I had become remiss in those duties, and was thus rewarded with a cold. But now I'm getting better with each passing day.
Instead of getting up out of my chair to ask my favorite coworker how to spell "regimen" I simply rolled across the hall to ask her. It was actually a good workout for my thighs.
This concludes Maureen's impression of Larry King. She plays here on Tuesdays and Thursdays.
Posted by: Maureen at February 4, 2003 1:11 PMI'll give you a quarter if you come to tea.
Posted by: David at February 4, 2003 5:58 PM