Anyway, on the way, stopped at a traffic signal, we encountered a Perfect Storm of Upper Middle Class Douchiness on display. I whipped out the cell phone to capture this:
We've got a lot of things going on here - so wonderful:
1. The wondrous liberal douche bumper sticker with the word 'coexist' spelled using religious symbols.
2. The "I Belong in the Zoo" Atlanta Zoo patron bumper sticker. Hey Douche, the chimpanzees just called and they said that if they ever actually see your pretentious ass at the zoo they are saving a special pile of poo to fling at you.
3. The little white sticker to the left of the license plate is a bragging sticker that they have the disposable income to send their spawn to a private school.
4. But the topper that clinches their douche master status has to be the licesnse plate itself:
Are you kidding me?
I wanted to follow this twit just to see what kind of aging hippie, LSD besotted bag of damaged DNA would emerge but my hunger for Thai noodles won out and I turned.
Note on the Thai restaurant. It is literally a one man operation - he seats you, is the waiter and bartender and does all of the cooking. Read several reviews and the food is supposed to be awesome - but every one of the reviews also cautioned that you shouldn't be in a hurry if you go. We called ahead to make sure they were going to be open. When we got there I scored a parking place on the street in front - sweet. The restaurant/house is really rundown and is decorated (and I use the word loosely) in a rather eclectic, funky style. If you walked by you would probably keep going and not even realize that it is a restaurant. The walkway to the front door is covered by a trellis and you can see the front patio - lots of tables, greenery, looks cool - and the front windows of the place are wide open and more resemble an open veranda than anything else. We can hear a TV blaring over the bar in the front area and see tables. There are a couple of signs that say "Come In - We're Open" displayed. So, we walk up to the door ... it isn't really a door ... rather it is a door sized wire gate. I yank on the gate and, surprise, it is chained and padlocked closed. Then I realize what was bothering me as we were walking up ... no customers on the patio and none inside that I could see. No one at all. Weird. I knock on the gate and give a half-hearted 'hello is anyone there?". No response. Repeat knock/hello combo but a little louder this time. Still no response.
Maybe there is another entrance? Do a recon around the building - nope. Back at the gate. Whip out the cell phone and call the restaurant. I can hear the phone ringing in the restaruant. It rings and rings and rings. No answer. What the hell? I just called 30 minutes earlier and they said that they would be open until midnight. The 'open' signs are posted. The tables on the patio are set with utensils and glasses.
WTF? Does this mean that there will be NO THAI NOODLES FOR THE RHINO!?!?!?!
Time to regroup. Thankfully, I'm in an upscale douch-nozzle neighborhood and there are a veritable plethora of restaurants in walking distance (I AM NOT going to give up that sweet parking space). We walk up the street and find another Thai joint - nice place, good food but will definitely NOT be featured in a future cheap eats article.
Afterwards we repaired to Paolo's Gelato. The HLDW* made a typical HLDW choice - a scoop of rosemary gelato and a scoop of hazelnut gelato. In the same cup. Talk about war on the taste buds. I had the zabaglione (banana) and tartufo (chocolate rum).
Life was good again.
It is good to be the Thai noodle eatin', gelato licking Rhino on a warm Sunday afternoon.