My mission was to try the soup at Bakerman's, a mission that was squelched when the counter lass told me that day's soup was curry vegetable. Not to waste a trip, I ordered a S'mores cookie. "We're outta S'mores." Aaaack! How about a Triple Chocolate/Pecan cookie? "That I can do!" So I took my third-best and waltzed over to The Deli Downstairs. I don't know why I went to the trouble of going into the front of the building and waiting an eon for the elevator to take me down one flight when I could have entered through the atrium on the Brazos side of the building and bypassed the tortoise-like elevator altogether.
Nevertheless, I got to the deli and ordered a roast beef sammich. And I asked if they actually have any cheese to put on the sammich, unlike the last time I went there. They did! Hurrah! Got me a bag of chips and some tea, too, and took my grub to the atrium to eat in the cold. I wanted to eat inside, but I didn't want to be watched while I ate.
The sammich wasn't as good as the first one I had a few weeks earlier, despite the presence of cheese on this one. It was still good, though. The rosemary bread is very tasty and complements the roast beef very well.
I got to enjoy a bird jousting match as I sat there. Two birds were pecking and squawking at each other over God knows what. En garde! One of them then started squawking at something else, and as the other one turned to look, the first one flew away. Nice!
As I ate, a yuppie came outside and yakked very loudly on his phone about the STD he just got over. Why on earth would you talk about that in the company of complete strangers? Perhaps he didn't know I was there, as maybe he's blind. He certainly is stupid. Another couple of apes came outside for a smoke break. They stood near an ash tray at the far end of the atrium. I was at the end nearest the building doors. One ape decided to drop his ciggie butt in the ash tray next to me instead of in the ash tray next to where he was previously hanging out. And the breeze blew the smoke -- since he didn't stub out his cig, but merely placed it in the ash tray -- into my face as I was trying to eat. Yeah, thanks, ass-spelunker. I prayed that he gets the phone-yakker's STD as I got up to move. I'm not against smoking, but I don't want it around me when I eat, if I can help it. I quit smoking six years ago for a reason.
On my way back to the office, I crossed Congress on 6th, and as soon as I started passing the Starbucks I heard a male voice yell, "You fucking TWAT!" I naturally assumed the person was talking to me. Turned around to see a hobo yelling at a fire hydrant. Ha! I enjoyed that New York cliche all the way back to the office.
Something weird seems to happen each time I go to The Deli Downstairs. Last time it was a cop driving the wrong way down Brazos, and this time it was a hobo serenading a fire hydrant. Next time I'm bringing a video camera.
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