After my most wonderful respite in the American Airlines Admirals Club®, I enjoyed a quiet flight (First Class) to Atlanta to prepare for mediation with my team.
Lunch was forgettable. I had one of my associates get everyone lunch, and guess what she came back with?
Fucking sandwiches.
Yep. Of course, we're working, so what better food than something that screams OMGEATYOURFOODANDGETBACKTOWORK? I don't even know where they were from. At least it wasn't Subway or some other shit hole. I think mine was a combination of bread, meat and cheese [surprise]. Then again, I'm simultaneously happy she immediately went to sandwiches, because I want her working 24 hours a day.
Dinner, on the other hand, was good-- until these little fuckers ruined it for everyone.
We swung by TAP, a well-reviewed gastropub in midtown. Of course, we go to a fucking gastropub when I can't drink shit because of the damn bet, but we'll let that go for now. We sat down outside and I reluctantly ordered tap water (I'm getting used to the toxins) and a sliced egg BLT because I wanted to start a bacon barrage.
I was but two bites into my sandwich when my table was accosted by vagabonds. These fiesty fucks walked into the restaurant area with crumpled pieces of paper and tried to get money out of my table by selling melted candy bars:
Vagabond 1: Hey! My name is Vagabond and we're [unintelligible].
Vagabond 2: Yeah!
Me: Are you fucking kidding me?
At that point, our waiter came and kicked them out of the restaurant. Unfortunately, the damage had been done. My appetite was gone; I instructed our servant to remove my food immediately and bring the bill, as I'd be leaving to shower in my hotel room. He tried to comp the meal, but I'd have none of that; I paid exactly $12.50 and walked out.
Fucking vagabonds.
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