Archive for March, 2012
About a month ago, I heard about this new restaurant/bar/pub opening up in St. Charles where the old Wilikers use to be. I had heard of Tilted Kilt before after one opened up in Arnold, MO, but never made the venture south to visit it. From their website the faire looked to be standard for a sports bar and the collection of beautiful ladies in scantily clad kilts and mid-rif bearing busty shirts caught my eye. Being of Scottish heritage, I was at the very least interested in finding out if there was indeed any celtic aura in the establishment or if the 6″ kilt was just a gimmick.
Today was opening day. I posted on Twitter that I wanted to go for dinner and asked for volunteers to suffer through the experience with me. My good buddy @kickassmktg (Dustin) answered the call and we met up around 6pm. As I walked up to the entrance, there was a father & son ahead of me. The father opened the door, took a quick glance and turned right around telling his son, “This isn’t our kind of place.” Clearly he didn’t check out the website first.
Upon entering the front doors, we were immediately greeted by a pack of beautiful young women eager to ensure that our dining needs were met. The place was busy. Very busy. Not surprising though for the first night of a highly anticipated restaurant like this. It took a few minutes for the server to find us a table but not long enough for me to get irritated. There was a small hightop bar table against the glass and we had a good view of the joint. We scoped out the amount of TVs (a lot) and noticed all of the decorations (flags, banners, etc). There was a hint of celtic flair but definitely Americanized. It may go without saying but all of the servers were female while the managers and bussers were male. There may have been female leadership around but I only noticed the males.
Our server (Courtney) approached us and was very happy to offer a TK Lager to get us started. I opted for the Sam Adams Seasonal if it was the Alpine Spring, but she had no idea and had to find out from the bartender. A moment later, a different server (Brittany) approached us and offered to get us drinks. Confused, I told her that Courtney was already helping us. She told us this was her table. When Courtney returned, they squabbled a little but figured out that it was indeed Brittany’s table. I didn’t give the situation much attention; I figured since it was the first night they were open, there was bound to be some uncertainty on the numbering of tables so a learning curve was in order.
I ordered the Chicken Fried Chicken. It came with steamed vegetables, garlic mashed potatoes, and garlic bread. It didn’t knock my socks off, but it was definitely delicious. The steamed vegetables included yellow carrots, which I had never had before, but they were…eh, ok. The garlic bread was over cooked and hard. I cleaned the plate of everything else. As it turns out, the Sam Adams Seasonal was in fact the Alpine Spring…that didn’t take long to go down. Dustin had some kind of chicken wrap and his only comment was, “Eh, it was ok.” The rest of the dining experience was filled with giggles and flirting from Brittany which I can only assume is the default character training for the chain restaurant. I wouldn’t say she worked overly hard for her tip, but she made us comfortable with her friendly and inviting conversation. Her final deed for the evening (and often times the most important) was the retrieval of the bill. From the time we asked for it to the time she brought back the receipt after running the credit card…maybe 4-5 minutes…it was quick. I’ve seen faster, but for standard bill retrieval timing, that’s pretty dang good, especially with a busy crowd.
The bottom line, I was intrigued and entertained enough to go back for another visit. With the shear number of TVs and the amount of usable square footage, that alone is enough to meet a group of buddies to watch the big game (of any sport). The beer selection was on par with any other local bar carrying all of the favorites. The beautiful women was just icing on the cake, but not the only reason I’ll go back.
I think this is the part where I give out some kind of rating. I don’t have a rating system. In my mind, if I’m willing to go back, they must have done something right.
The potential to turn into a long drawn out novel is pretty big here. I could go in several directions and end up 100 miles away from the point of all this. I make no promises about my ability to steer straight and stay on point.
Last year when Dylen turned 6, she asked for a phone. Yes, a cell phone. Rhyen was 6 when she got her first phone, so it was difficult for me to say no and tell Dylen she couldn’t have one. When I told her that’s what she was getting, the deal was that she could go to Best Buy and pick it out herself. Initially I had no plans to get her a smartphone since Rhyen started off with just a flip phone (basic calling and texting). The problem was, you could get a smartphone for the same price as a flip phone, and in some cases for free. Sure, you have to have data, but in the grand scheme of things, it’s a small cost in the development of her technological experience. Dylen walked out of there that day with an HTC Inspire. Android. I was afraid this would happen. I wasn’t about to spend $200 on an iPhone for a 6 year old. She got the lowest data plan through AT&T and everything else was included on the family plan (minutes, text, mobile to mobile).
It took all of about 24 hours for me to realize what happened. Dylen was the unlucky inheritor of a phone number that belonged to “Heather Everett”. You may be asking “Who is Heather Everett?” Well…after 6 months of having her old phone number, we know what bills she hasn’t paid, she owes taxes from last year (I’m assuming), I know what school her kids go to, I know that her daughter is in counseling, I know that she’s a democrat and I know that she’s clearly disorganized for not having told most of her friends that she changed her number.
For awhile, Dylen dealt with the random calls. Then she started handing the phone to me. I told the bill collectors and the friends and telemarketers that this was not Heather Everett. I thought that by having a little girl say her own voice mail greeting, people would get the hint. I told others that they were to delete this number. I told telemarketers to remove the phone number. I told debt collecting mongrols that this was NOT HEATHER EVERETT. The calls continued to come.
This morning, while Rhyen sat in the car, Dylen and I went into the AT&T store to finally change the number. When the Glenn (the AT&T representative) asked me which number I wanted to change, I gave them the -8880 number. Dylen picked out her new number, he restarted the phone and at the moment when I saw a known bill collector number come across the screen, my face immediately frowned. I realized my mistake. I gave him Rhyen’s phone number. A rush of scenarios played through my mind as to how I could spin this, but the reality was…I messed up. At this point, there was literally nothing you could do to get that number back (or at least the guy told me).
As Glenn and Dylen worked out changing HER number, I took the walk of shame out to the car to deliver the bad news. Rhyen looked at me with disgust, snarling her lip. I could tell she was not happy. She simply said “There are so many things I want to say, but I’m going to just keep my mouth shut.” What I’d like to believe is that while in her mind, this was an inconvenience, the truth is, she’s not paying for the phone (yet) and really has no right to be upset about it. Still…I felt bad that she’d have to have all of her friends change her number in their phones.
We’ll all laugh about it tomorrow.