I've long believed that the standards that people generally adhere to in everyday life are incredibly low. From the food we eat to the entertainment we watch to the things we create, what's considered acceptable is laughable.
I encounter this phenomenon daily. And I'm not just blaming America or Americans - this is a worldwide issue.
My biggest complaint is, obviously, the things that most people accept as edible. And not only edible, but enjoyable. I'm aware that I am in the very small minority when it comes to food and what I consume on a daily basis is a far cry what even healthy people consider 'normal.' But in general the food that people accept and enjoy regularly is atrocious.
Take 'The Flaming Pit' for example. I went there two nights ago with my grandparents. Upon entering, it was immediately apparent that this was not going to be a meal that I would be enjoying. I scanned the dining room that looked like it hadn't been updated since the 1960's, and at least 90% of the clientele had white hair or no hair. I glanced to the right and noticed a younger couple seated aside who appeared to be their grandparents, and I immediately sympathized with them. We walked towards the back of the dining room. I observed an elderly man, not more than 120 lbs, with the tanned and wrinkled skin of a lifelong snowbird, absolutely devouring a deep-fried chicken wing, the grease dribbling down the left side of his chin. He was actually smiling. My attitude at the outset of our meal was not exactly positive.
We were seated at a table for four, directly behind the salad bar. This was no ordinary salad bar. It haad the requisite salad fixins for sure, but it also offered pasta, meatballs, fruit salad, pudding, a variety of hot vegetables and an enormous dessert selection. And of course no olive oil. How in the world can a restaurant not have a bottle of olive oil in the kitchen, the basis for nearly every single meal I cook in a day!? Standards are low indeed; this was not a good sign for the main course.
I ordered the salmon, which I planned to place atop an iceberg salad from the aforementioned smorgasbord. When it arrived, the fish was absolutely tasteless. Undoubtedly this piece of fish was cut from the body of a fish who spent his entire life in a pen likely no larger than a small swimming pool, and fed corn on a daily basis until he was plump enough to be killed and served to me, the unfortunate diner. I simply cannot understand how anyone could think that piece of fish tasted good, let alone tasted like anything at all.
My wine was atrocious as well. I ended up sending back the glass of burgundy I'd ordered and instead getting an entire bottle of Yellow Tail Shiraz, the pinnacle of the lackluster beverage selection. I drank two glasses and brought the rest home, which I consumed while talking to Tiffany on gmail last night.
I'm sick of mediocrity.
I thought I had more to say on this point, but I'm decidedly uninspired at the moment, have been for a while. I can't write well unless I have something exciting to write about, and though I'm enjoying myself here in Florida, I still feel like I'm treading water. I'm advancing my career by going to school (I hope), but after that I'll be working as a taxi driver on the water, which will be fun, but living with the g-rents is not exactly what I look forward to coming home to at night. I cannot stand that television, and it is on constantly from 4pm-11pm every single day.
I'm stealing this idea from Tiffany:
Now Playing: Coldplay, Yes
