Russell Dicker

Last night Lia and I went to La Vita E Bella and had a rather unfortunate experience with neglectful service.

We arrived around 8 PM and expected to get seated quickly since there were a number of open tables. It took almost ten minutes before someone even acknowledged us and during this time two other parties who arrived after us were welcomed and seated. I’m 6’3”, how do you miss me? After the wait to even be noticed it took another ten minutes of, “Just one minute,” before we were seated at one of the empty tables.

I was pretty exasperated at this point in time – I can’t ever recall it taking so long for someone to acknowledge me at a restaurant.

After about five minutes someone came buy to take our drink order and Lia picked out a nice $38 Barbera which was brought over in an uncharacteristically prompt manner. The good wine started to calm me down so I didn’t even really notice too much when five and then ten minutes went by without anyone coming to take our food order.

Alas, the delays started to irritate me again as additional minutes ticked by. Finally I simply stuck the cork back on the bottle of wine, threw $40 down on the table, took our wine and went down the street to have a delicious dinner at Marjorie. And they only even charged us half corkage.

The funny thing was how good it made me feel to walk out. I seldom feel like a victim of circumstance, but realized that was exactly what I was doing at La Vita E Bella. I was allowing them to aggravate me with poor service. I doubt there was any malice in their actions, most likely some waiter/waitress simply called in sick at the last minute. Because I had mentally committed to eating dinner there, I sat and took it for over 40 minutes.

Sitting there and “taking it” is not my modus operandi and so I wonder how much the irritation was caused by the poor service versus simply being outside my comfort zone. I wonder if there are other places in my life where the same is true.

Lia and I both ate for ~$25 including tax/tip. The sushi was good and 9-10 is when we would eat anyway.

I spent a week in Spain and went to Gibraltar as a day trip. It was mostly whimsical since Gibraltar is kind of this strange anachronism. It turned out to be the best part of my trip. The views were spectacular, the town was very cute, and everyone loves the monkeys.

Ugh. This place was, as the kids say, teh suck. We actually saw a party of girls that had not one but two women dressed entirely in white.

I’ve often lamented that one of the great urban resources that Seattle seems to lack is a large park similar to Central, Golden Gate, or Stanley. In the spirit of using what I have and as part of my goal to explore the city I live in, Lia and I decided to visit Discovery Park.

This was partially inspired by the unseasonably nice weather we had in Seattle for the past week, but also served as a nice excuse to get a burger at Red Mill in Magnolia since you pretty much need to drive right by it.

I marked Discovery Park as worth it for a number of reasons, but there is one strange caveat. In the park’s favor is the reasonably leisurely walk around the loop and the path down to the south beach. The view from the south beach is a unique one. It is unusual to be so far west into the Sound without needing to cross it. Seattle has some of the best views of any city I’ve been to but new vantage points are always welcome. From the south beach you could see Rainier with the West Seattle Bridge and docks beneath it, a quaint (I hate that word, but nothing fits better) little lighthouse, and the Seattle sewage treatment plant.

That’s correct. Right at the westernmost edge of the beautiful park is where all of the sewage that goes down your toilets and sinks ends up. How does that seem like a good idea?

Now in their defense, it doesn’t smell too bad. I mean if I were in charge of thousands of pounds of raw human excrement, I couldn’t make it not smell like this. But no one is going to confuse it with a basket of lilies either.

This probably has something to do with the park being a former military base, but it really is a shame that in Seattle’s largest outdoor park we also put our waste facility.

I’m told the best thing they have here is the friend chicken. I don’t know, but I’ve been there.

Technically I have been here before, but it was over 15 years ago so I figure it doesn’t count.

The bar is a bit of a mid-30s meat market (no judgement), but the restaurant itself is pretty good high-end comfort food.

There really isn’t anything wrong with this place, but it isn’t special either. I guess I might go here again if I don’t feel like dragging myself up to Capitol Hill to go go 611 Supreme.

The Dipsea is the place that I like to go when I find myself hungover in Marin. A little Cori’s Scramble, extra Tabasco , and Coffee helps make on feel human again.