Show weekend: Someone made a big splash, but it wasn’t Magnum
Wow, after being in Fitchburg three weeks ago, it was SO nice to be back at the Big E for shows. It is by far my favorite show venue. Tons of grooming space to set up in, ample electrical access, bathrooms nearby and well-stocked, food on the premises, plenty of parking, huge grounds to take dogs for walks on… Plus, the Motel 6 in nearby Enfield is actually… not horrible, and there are plenty of places to dine right at hand.
Yeah, about that…
So, Kate and I wandered blearily into the nearby McDonald’s to grab some breakfast before heading to the show site on Saturday morning. We had time to kill, so instead of doing a hit-and-run through the drive-thru, we went inside. And we waited.
And we waited. And waited. And W-A-I-T-E-D.
Wow, it must have been really busy, right? Actually, no. We were the only customers there (unless you count the guy who I’m pretty sure was homeless shuffling aimlessly around the lobby). However, the three employees who were out front and visible were far too involved with bickering, pointing fingers about who should have cooked bacon, and proclaiming loudly in front of us customers that they were not going to be touching those cash registers. After we stood there for about five minutes, we turned around and left and went next door to the Dunkin Donuts. Someone at corporate will SO be getting a nasty email from me later today.
All was not lost Saturday morning; Magnum went Select for his second Grand CH major, a 4-pointer under judge Edeltraud Laurin. Yay!
For lunch, we decided we’d go a little more upscale than fast food this time, so we went to the Olive Garden. Fortunately, we got right in. UNfortunately, our waitress was training a new server. We both ordered ice water, and Kate ordered a Blue Moon. If making mistakes is the best way to learn, our server-in-training gained some valuable insight into how not to remove beverages from a tray — she dumped an entire glass of ice water in my lap.
I TOO learned a valuable lesson: when you have had an entire glass of ice water dumped into your lap, do NOT immediately stand up. If you do, the ice water will run down your leg and into your shoes, soaking not only your pants but your socks and shoes as well!! And no, the restaurant did not offer to comp us anything on our bill for the hassle.
Perhaps, when it came time for dinner, calling for pizza delivery would have been the better part of valor, but we had done that the night before, so we opted to walk across the street to the new Chipotle’s that went in where the Bickford family restaurant used to be. Chipotle’s, it turns out, is sort of to Mexican food what Subway is to a delicatessen. That is to say, it bore a passing resemblance to Mexican food, was cheap, was relatively fast, and ordered in assembly line fashion. The food and ambiance left A LOT to be desired. So we were pretty much 0-for-3 on food for the day.
Ollie took a Reserve on Sunday; Magnum was dumped. We made it out of there by 2:00, and I landed in the driveway at 5:46 for a new Springfield-to-home drive-time record of 3 hours, 46 minutes — with a full half hour to spare before the Superbowl kick-off. [Disclaimer: I may have exceeded the legal speed limit.]
[Further Disclaimer: with regard to the Superbowl, I needn’t have bothered.]