We went to a place called Terlingua Texas Border Cafe on Studemont, right next to her apartment complex. Miss G has passed it a thousand times on her way into and out of the "hood", so it's been on her "bucket list" for a while!
Good God, was that place horrible! We had a beautiful table on the patio that Christine scoped out around 5:30ish, long before the place got crowded. Miss G got there aroung 6, and waited a good 15 minutes before a waiter came to take her order. After another 30 minutes or so, her "frozen" margarita arrived, looking more like a urine sample than a frozen cocktail. In her immense thirst she accepted it, thank goodness, because her next one was more than an hour later! After more randomly interspersed drinks and an eventual order of food, Miss Ginger decided the place wasn't worth her time of day, so we settled and left.
On the way out, Miss G couldn't leave well enough alone, so she went back in and walked up to the solitary white guy in the place, festively decked out in his Dockers and Izod shirt. She walked up behind him and stared daggers into his shoulder at the flat screen register thingy for a good 2 minutes, when she finally put her hand gently on his shoulder and said "hey, dude, are you the manager?" The guy whipped around like a raped ape and and said "yeah", and Miss G said, in her softest Southern accent: "I just wanted to let you know that even though we tipped well, the service tonight sucked!' And do you know what he said?! He said "yea, I know!" To which Miss G said "does it always suck like this?" and he said "no, it's Cinco de Mayo!"
"Well, no," says the douchebag, "we knew it was coming."
"Is this level of service acceptable to you?", asked Miss Ginger?
"Well, it's the best we can do under the circumstances!"
Miss G won't be back.