Now and again, Diane and I like to emerge from our hovel, interrupt our monotonous old folks’ routine of “sleep - breakfast - social media - WFH - lunch - social media - dinner - TV - sleep” and take a wee trip somewhere not too far because after all, how long can one live without Netflix!
Last Friday we took a trip to Tampa, a city I love and wish I could afford to live in. Our first stop was what used to be our favorite haunt, “Mojo Books and Music”. We were shocked to find the formerly cozy bookstore/cafe had become a cavernous space with floors of raw concrete and a coziness factor similar to that of a gas station restroom. There were still shelves stocked with used books and an espresso machine operated by a goth girl who looked like an actress from a zombie mayhem movie. Similarly, the rest of the clientele looked like tattooed ghosts on a starvation diet - though dutifully masked to fend off respiratory viruses. Worst of all, the house speakers blared what I think is called “death metal”. Not being a connossieur of the genre I can’t be sure but it sounded like people being recorded while being dismembered by circular saws. I politely I asked the phantom behind the counter to lower the volume. She opened her mouth adorned with numerous lip rings and said something but I couldn’t hear the words. The music did not stop and I didn’t notice any effort on her (?) part to heed my request. We stayed a minute or two longer, trying to focus on the bookshelves but it was frankly impossible. “Mojo Books and Music” had been transformed into “Mojo Books and Aural Torture”. I’m pretty sure the tattooed skeletons dug it, though.
Our next stop was a highly recommended Thai restaurant on Davis Island, called “Thai Island”. If Tampa is a great city, Davis Island is awesome…it’s like being on a Carribean island but without the tourist crowds and expensive air fare. Entering “Thai Island” we were “greeted” by a sulky waitress who used the old one-second smile that immediately changes back into a bored frown as soon as the word “welcome” leaves her lips. The place was empty and didn’t smell great. We asked for the menus. “No menus, you must scan”. The waitress pointed to a large QR code on our table. “I don’t know how to do that”, I lied, just because I wanted to see their damn menu. The waitress sighed heavily, as if I was asking her to lend me a thousand dollars. She whipped out an iPad and put it down on the damp table. “Like this”, she said, scrolling down the screen with her finger. I was going to say “greasy finger” but Hemingway has taught me to dispense with adjectives whenever possible. “So you don’t have actual menus?” I asked. The whole place had a weird vibe…like it was May 2020 and they had just opened after a severe lockdown. We didn’t even look at the iPad and left.
Our third stop was a triumph. A nice Mexican restaurant across the street from “Thai No Manu Island” called “Margharitas” with young good looking waiters (Diane commented on that naturally. “Thank you honey, you’re so handsome!”) The food was fresh, plentiful and inexpensive. All’s well that ends well.
On the way home we stopped at Whole Foods. Sometimes it’s fun buying $10 carrots, just because the store is so well-run and smells so nice. The opposite of our local Publix which looks and feels like a transplant from Port-au-Prince after the earthquake.
I am delighted to report that I have sold out the first batch of my book “DEAD TO WRITES” I am ordering a new shipment soon, so if you’re interested in a hard copy ($25 plus shipping), shoot me an email at georgegrosman at gmail dot com. You can also pre-order on Kindle for $2.99 - the book will be out on Kindle Unlimited June 1. Of course I can’t inscribe a digital copy for you, so when I’m rich and famous you’ll regret not splurging on a hard copy. My signature alone will be worth thousands.