CreamyGoodness
Well-Known Member
So, the wife and a couple friends went to the new joint down the block for dinner. They have barbeque they smoke off-site, a nice draft beer list, and kegs of bourbon. So far so good. Everything is served in mason jars, and everyone sits where they can find room at long oak tables. A little hipstery, but then I have a hipster tendency or two. They need to get the line situation under control and the restrooms arent the best, but I'm sure they will in time. Some of the sauces better than others, and they run out of food quickly... needs a little work but a solid effort. Creamy approves.
What surprised me a bit was the number of folks who brought their infants and put them in those little attach it to a table baby seats. This was at about 8pm.
What really surprised me was that in a bustling, loud beer garden/rib joint you didnt hear a single baby crying. The little guy across from me on the other side of the table had this kind of bemused "where in the bloody HELL am I??" look on his little face the whole time. When I went to the restroom I passed by another infant, this time a girl (helpfully labelled with a bib that said "daddy's girl", sucking her pacifier with a confused wrinkled brow.
Lesson learned. When I have a kid and it starts fussing, I am going to bring it to The Strand, where he or she will be over stimulated in the auditory sense whilst orafactorily they will be bombarded with wing sauce, good bourbon, great beer, and mediocre kidney beans. Brilliant! :fro:
What surprised me a bit was the number of folks who brought their infants and put them in those little attach it to a table baby seats. This was at about 8pm.
What really surprised me was that in a bustling, loud beer garden/rib joint you didnt hear a single baby crying. The little guy across from me on the other side of the table had this kind of bemused "where in the bloody HELL am I??" look on his little face the whole time. When I went to the restroom I passed by another infant, this time a girl (helpfully labelled with a bib that said "daddy's girl", sucking her pacifier with a confused wrinkled brow.
Lesson learned. When I have a kid and it starts fussing, I am going to bring it to The Strand, where he or she will be over stimulated in the auditory sense whilst orafactorily they will be bombarded with wing sauce, good bourbon, great beer, and mediocre kidney beans. Brilliant! :fro: