If you're not knitting, the terrorists win

(My mostly on-topic ramblings about knitting. And life in general. My life in specific.)

My Photo
Location: Indiana, United States

I'm a middle aged mother of 2 grown children and wife to a man who doesn't seem to mind my almost heroin-like yarn addiction. I spend my time writing, knitting, and generally stressing out.

Sunday, October 19, 2014

The Great Outdoors Was... Great

T and I always celebrate our birthdays together, since they are in the same week. We are actually 361 days apart, but through the weird literalism of calendars, we appear to be only 4 days apart. So my birthday was yesterday, his is Wednesday, and we are celebrating both today.

We celebrated by taking a day off work. Like an actual day that we didn't do anything work related. We slept in a little bit, had coffee together, then hit the road. We decided to spend the day in Brown County State Park, and the neighboring Nashville, Indiana. And, as it turns out, that was a great call. The leaves are turning, the weather was nice, the sun was shining.

We hadn't been down to the area in about 15 years, but we used to go all the time. Brown County is a great park, with trails to suit everyone's tastes. And it's only $5 to get into the park. Five dollars a car. Come on. You're not going to find a cheaper date than that. We used to go down at least once a month in college because it was an inexpensive way to spend a day.

Nashville was always a crafty, artisty, community. We used to spend a lot of time looking at the antique shops and the artist galleries. And there's a place there with the best fudge. It's grown up a little. In fact, most of those shops were not even there the last time we were there. There were a whole lot more artists. And vintage shops. (My favorite antique store is a Subway now, though!) And ice cream parlors, apparently. The shops, while they have always been in repurposed hundred-year-old houses--sometimes divided into two or three shops, including the upstairs and basement--are even more quaintly located now. Turn onto any alley and find two or three little shops below and an art gallery above. Or better yet, a courtyard opening onto the alley, with a little coffee shop tucked away. And there were street musicians. Lots of street musicians.

It reminded me a little of the French Quarter in New Orleans, really. The old houses converted into hotels, shops, and galleries. The almost-hidden courtyards with their shopping gems. The street musicians on every corner.

We ate at this place--Hobnob's Corner. It was great. It's a very small place, a little cramped (I'm guessing that because of the historical status of the building they didn't have to meet the ADA requirements.), but very cute. We had a pretty awesome pot roast sandwich (I had a vegetable medley and T had home fries) with homemade coleslaw. And we had some very date-like conversation. (No work talk.)

I do want to mention the one black spot on this entire day occured here, though. Listen, the whole town was crawling with upscale touristy types. And the people at the restaurant were definitely in that category. Upscale clothes, shoes, jackets. Those fugly Pandora bracelets. More Coach purses and Kate Spade bags than you've ever seen in your life. The table next to us asked the server to take pictures of them with their $800 camera. (Seriously. The guy actually said, "Careful. That's an $800 camera." as he asked her to take about half a dozen photos of his party in various poses.) And then, when they left the restaurant, they left a $2.66 tip.

No kidding. Four people. Four meals plus beverages and dessert. With tax, their meal had to be about $100. And they left two ones, two quarters, a dime, a nickel, and a penny. To make matters worse, instead of just saying "Keep the change," they gave the server the money for their check and waited until she brought the $2.66 change back to the table. Then they left that shitty little tip for the server.

These were not old, old people who were still living with 1940 prices, mind you. They were our age. Middle aged, middle class people, who definitely knew better. And listen, in my book, if you can afford to spend $80 on a saw with a water mill painted on it, or a $50 hanging birdbath made of teacups, and then go pop $100 for lunch, you can afford a decent tip. These people purposely acted like assholes.

That got me looking around. Out of the tables that paid in cash, I saw no tip over that $2.66. Several tables left a dollar tip. ONE dollar. Now I'd like to believe that maybe those tables just paid by credit card and added the tip to the check. (And then, for some strange reason, then left $1 on the table?) But, we tipped our waitress 20% and she was so suprised I thought she might hug us.

Anyway. More on our trip tomorrow. I have photos.


Post a Comment

<< Home

Free Counter