I'm back from my short work trip to Tampa which gave me a great opportunity to make a short drive up the Leroy Selmon Crosstown Expressway into Brandon to see my parents. Alligators and ugly cars aside, the trip was well worthwhile, both from a work perspective and for obvious personal reasons.
I was able to work in an early dinner with my parents from Le Septima (I love me a good Cuban Sandwich) one afternoon, and on Thursday, I slipped into The Shrimp Boat, a family favorite, and brought back some good vittles. By the way, if you are unfamiliar, Cuban bread is different than French bread, even if it looks the same. I took these pictures the following day as I was getting ready to eat the last half of a Cuban for a midnight snack.
On my last day before heading off to the airport, I made my obligatory drive back to my old neighborhood and by Brandon High School. If you are like me and have recurring dreams centered on specific locations, it is very helpful to go to those places. Memories of places ingrained in our youth are often altered in someway years later in our dreams. Going back helps to redraw the mental map, I suppose.
Driving by the school, I noticed this marquee, a tribute to Dwayne Schintzius. I was long gone by the time he made his mark on Brandon High and later the University of Florida. Readers here may recall the name of and the 7'2", mulleted Elvis impersonator as the first round draft pick of the San Antonio Spurs. He didn't stay here long but I remember being excited that someone, even if I didn't know him or his family, from my hometown made it big.
I took the Nook with me in order to read on my flight. I read a pretty funny book by Hilary Winston called My Boyfriend Wrote a Book About Me. I think it was recommended to me by Nook because I had purchased a Chelsea Handler book. All you need to know is that Hilary describes going into the bathroom and farting into a towel so her boyfriend wouldn't hear it. I'm sure the guy sitting in the seat next to me on the plane didn't appreciate my spraying Diet Coke through my nose.
Apparently, everybody is coming to San Antonio for Fiesta. My flight didn't leave Tampa until 6:55PM and I tried to get on the flight that left at 4:50. No luck. And when I got to DFW, I tried to get on the 9:50 flight and they had about 36 people on the standby list before I got to the gate. So, I flew in on the 10:55 flight and there was not a single empty seat. Thankfully I was not pressed between two huge guys like the flight from Tampa. Unfortunately, I was seated next to a very butch-lady with an extreme case of altitude induced flatulence. I seriously wanted to ask her to read the passage from the Hilary Winston book regarding farting and towels, but by the time the Capt Turned off the seat belt sign, I and I suppose everyone in the several rows in front and behind us had acclimated to the odor. Yikes, just wait until she gets a few Margaritas in her. Viva Fiesta!
Fiesta was what caused Eva and I to divert from certain awesome fajitas at La Margarita in Market Square to Los Barrios over on Blanco for lunch on Friday. That place is extremely popular and always busy, but they are pretty quick. All I can say is, the beef fajitas just aren't as good as the one's at La Margarita. Just because a place is somewhat touristy, doesn't mean they don't have good food.
We have a busy weekend lined up and lots of important TV shows to catch-up on.