I recently stopped in at a local Subway sandwich shop for lunch. I've been a Subway fan for years. Where else can a guy get a tasty halfway healthy lunch for three bucks? Nowhere, that's where. The shop was empty. A somber middle aged woman was beyond the counter to not greet me.
"Hello." I said.
She said absolutely nothing. As a matter of fact, she pretty much gave me the stink eye. I could have walked out - but I was hungry.
I ordered a meatball sandwich on Italian herbs and cheese bread.
She opened her mouth to ask, "Toasted?"
"Please." I responded.
Removing the sandwich from the oven, she complied with my request to add lettuce, tomatoes, black olives, banana peppers, jalapenos, Chipolte Southwest sauce and light Parmesan cheese.
"Meal deal?" she asked, looking at me as if I had a swastica carved into my forehead.
"Just the sandwich."
"Two thirty-nine." she said.
I handed her three dollars and she dropped the change into my hand.
Another customer appeared behind me.
"Can I help you?" she said looking right through me.
I didn't get a can I help you.
"Hold on a minute." I said.
The woman looked at me, stink eye on maximum.
"Who owns this place?" I asked.
"And you don't see fit to say thank you when a customer frequents your place?"
Nothing but major leaue stink eye.
"I tell you what, I'm never coming back here."
She smailed and said,"Thank you."
Is it just me?
Si Senor Restaurant
Si Senor is a quaint little Mexican joint in Chandler, Arizona where people never give anyone the stink eye. My wife, daughter and nephew work at this bastion of New Mexico style gastronomic ecstasy. My three yougest girls and I eat there every week.
The owner says it’s the habañero chili peppers that make the food so exceptional. An interesting side effect of the super chilis is beads of sweat cascading down my temples. With women, their noses seem to run. It's quirky cool to watch men dabbing their napkins to their brows and woman daintily wiping their noses with expressions of pure, brainless culinary bliss.
Meals come with chips and four salsas, the best of which, and the hottest, is the white. I’m due for a heavenly stuffed shredded beef sopapilla – in about an hour.
It’s good to have some thing to look forward to, something spectacular.
And no stink eyes.