Life Oh, Fremont
posted by April 17 at 12:06 PMon
You don’t expect the sound guy working the volume knobs in a rock club to be the prissy type, but then again, this was Fremont.
Here’s the story:
ECB and I went to see a friend’s band play last night at the High Dive in Fremont, and having not had dinner yet, we were distraught to find that the kitchen was closed. The friendly waitress told us the kitchen next door—at ToST—might be open, and we could bring the food back over.
So, we dashed over. Unfortunately, we stumbled into what appeared to be a stern poetry reading or consciousness-raising class there, so we tiptoed away and luckily discovered a sandwich shop across the street, Postmark Gelato and Royal Grinders.
The enthusiastic and pleasant guy behind the counter gleefully whipped us up two sandwiches—a ham and turkey panini with sweet chili marinara sauce (ECB) and a turkey on rye with swiss cheese, mustard, tomatoes, and onions for me—and lovingly wrapped them up and sent us on our way. The shop’s been under new management for a few months. You should check it out. It’s just across the street from the Lenin statue.
Anyway, the waitress at the High Dive saved us our table, and we hustled back to eat our sandwiches, get some drinks, and hear the band (a nice Lucinda Williams-style act called Tiger Zane).
We did all that, split one more drink, and then someone I thought was the guy who had been sitting across from us swooped up our sandwich wrappers to throw them away, saying angrily the smell of onions was “really bothering” him. He also told us we were violating the health code by bringing in outside food.
He turned out not to be the guy at our table, but the sound man working the board a few feet away.
The smell of onions was getting to him? The health code? Dude, so delicate. You’re the sound guy. It’s a bar … with a loud rock band. (And your kitchen was closed.)