I went out to lunch with a friend today. We went to Phil’s Barbecue, a rare treat for me. Why? Well it’s a popular place. How popular? So popular that the line for the counter went out the door and across the front of the building. This is why I rarely go there, even though I’m in the neighborhood almost daily.
Anyway, we got our food to go, since the place was packed, and a picnic sounded nice. But where would we go? Balboa park? No… they don’t have a picnic area that we can recall, and it’s just far away enough that the food might have been getting just a little bit cold by the time we got there. How about the Presidio? No… they do have a picnic area, but it’s at the top of a hill. Mission Bay? Yes, perfect! They have a picnic area and it’s even on the water, and it’s close enough that the food wouldn’t get cold before we got there. Off we went.
So we went to Mission Bay, and found not only a parking spot, but also a picnic table… in the shade. We had a beautiful view of the water and Fiesta Island, and our tasty barbecue sandwiches. Perfect… right?
Did I mention the gentle zephyr blowing across the water? No? That must have been because it wasn’t that gentle. In fact, it was like trying to eat in a convertible, with the top down, on the freeway. Not only did I have to weight my napkins down with my drink, I had to stab my plastic utensils into the food’s styrofoam clamshell to keep them from blowing away. When I finished the meal, I had barbecue spatter up to the elbow on the left arm and none on the right.
Don’t get me wrong, it was far from a disaster. Next time, though, I don’t think I’ll let a little hill stand in the way of a picnic.