Jeff’s Deli Meltdown

At 9:30 this morning I rode my bike alongside a jogging Mrs. Hill as we made our way downtown to eat breakfast. The Top doesn’t open for Sunday brunch until 11:30, we discovered, but we knew Jeff’s Deli–at the corner of University Avenue and SW 1st Street–would be open. Indeed, it was full, and we had to wait for the staff to clear a table for us. It took several minutes for our waitress to bring us a menu, and several more for her to bring us our drinks. Then, after what seemed like an eternity, Miriam pointed out to me that nobody around us was eating. It was true, there was only one table in sight enjoying food. Everyone else looked hungry and annoyed.

After an hour, with no indication of when our meal would arrive, we heard our young, but surprisingly haggard waitress tell the table next to us that there was some sort of kitchen calamity. She didn’t bother telling us, but we did receive our food at 11:45, an hour and fifteen minutes after we arrived. Some diners simply got up and left.

Had our waitress been more communicative, or had she simply said that there was a problem in the kitchen, we’d have just shrugged it off. But the servers were visibly fighting with the management and the kitchen staff, no doubt concerned that their tips would suffer. Still, as we left after noon, the older fellow at the register–whom I took to be a manager–practically insulted me for suggesting the wait was abnormal. “McDonald’s is down the road”, he said.

In spite of that, however, I know that he knew that something was amiss, since our waitress and the other young server we saw had both been pleading with him to do something about the catastrophe unfolding around them.

I’ve never liked Jeff’s Deli, and simply needed an excuse to never return. So, perhaps I should thank them for giving me–and a restaurant full of angry people–a perfect one.

Lighthouse, Delighthouse

I love her at a lighthouse.On Friday, homecoming at the University of Florida provided Mrs. Hill and I an opportunity to enjoy a Florida landmark we had seen in passing, but never specifically visited, namely, the St. Augustine Lighthouse.  Construction began in 1871, and the present tower replaced an earlier coquina tower built 50 years earlier, which is now lost to the sea.

Neither Miriam nor I had ever been in a lighthouse, but I found it thrilling.  I feel I am generally getting over my fear of heights, since, at the top, I was not afraid to walk around the lamp and look out upon the stunning view of greater St. Augustine.  That is, I wasn’t afraid of how high I was.  I was, however, afraid of the intense winds which nearly knocked me down.  So hard did they blow that remaining upright took genuine effort.  Frankly, I am surprised they allowed anyone at the top that day.  But I am glad they did, because it allowed us an exciting new experience.

Later we drove to the beach nearby, and marveled at the considerable erosion wrought by Tropical Storm Noel’s winds and waves.  The high surf was clearly visible from the lighthouse, maybe a mile from shore.  At the beach it was easy to see that a good five feet of sand had been washed away.   No swimming was allowed.  I still had fun.