Damn. My cell phone was at home, charging. I didn't need to make a call, didn't need to take a photo. I needed light, and barring an unexpected nuclear detonation, the faint glow of my phone's screen was the best I could hope for.Check back here tomorrow to see what I think.
I was trying to order dinner at the Bleeding Deacon. This is a bar, so by definition it's dark, but I'd chosen a table in a Bermuda Triangle that sucked away whatever ambient light was spilling from behind the bar, from inside the kitchen, even from the killer jukebox -- Jay-Z, Morrissey, the Beatles' white album and Whitesnake, and that was only a single page of selections -- to my immediate left. A tea light did sit on my table, but the flame was guttering: I had to hold the menu so close to the fire that I swore I could see smoke curling from the corner of the page.
So this is the point where I rant about how dimly lighted restaurants are these days, and how we're all going to go blind trying to read our menus, right?
Subscribe now to get the latest news delivered right to your inbox.