|Looks nice on the outside, but its a trick - get an axe!|
I took a religioius holiday today, spending most of Sunday worshiping at the alfar of NFL football. You'll no doubt be thrown into a deep depression to learn my fantasy teams only went 2-2. At least the greatest franchise in the universe, which you may better know as the Chicago Bears, stomped the hapless Indianapolis Colts into the turf, handing them a devastating 41-21 defeat from which the franchise is unlikely to ever recover.
I also watched the U.S. Open Women's final with Dad. Serena Williams toyed around with some Belorussian lady for a couple of hours before eliminating her desire to live in the third set.
All those sports made us ravenous, so we waddled over to the International for dinner. I recommend you head to the convenience store for one of those week old hot dogs instead (better the Toiyabe Cafe, they are very good). I will take the blame for the choice of venue; the history of the place was intriguing. The nineteenth century building had been taken apart from its old home in Virginia City and imported to Austin. Unfortunately the waitstaff had been imported from Planet Disinterested and Rude.
We were sullenly greeted with "what do you want to drink?" after being ignored for a few minutes in the empty restaurant by two waitresses (we were late learning something the rest of the town already knew). The younger woman sported pants which said, "I don't do nice." They should have said, "I don't do much of anything." You would have thought we had shown up at someone's house, sat down, and asked them to cook us a meal from the way we were treated.
The food was okay at best, the low point being a visibly black chunk of rot in my baked potato. Caring about quality was a little too much to ask as well at the International. I have been to many a dusty dive on this trip and even been served pizza from a cardboard box, but this was easily the worst dining experience I've had in nine months of traveling.
I'm no fan of Gordon Ramsay, but the International deserves a visit from him. The foul-mouthed chef might make Two Live Crew blush, but he may not have quite enough four letter words to appropriately describe this hellhole.
"I award you no points and may God have mercy on your soul." - Billy Madison
0 miles/3544 total miles