Posts Tagged st. charles
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 year was 1978. The Vietnam era was still wrapping up, Elvis fans were still mourning and I, at the tender age of 2 was about to be uprooted from the rural suburbs of Detroit. My dad decided to enlist in the US Navy even against the advice of his loved ones. Turns out, it very well could have been one of the best
decisions he ever made.
Over the course of my childhood, through circumstances dictated by the government or in some cases, family health, I made 8 different cities my home. I never had problems finding friends; leaving them each time proved to be a difficult task however. I was in many different elementary and middle schools but somehow I was fortunate enough to spend all four years in one high school. My brother was not so lucky and ended up in 3 different high schools spread out between Wisconsin, California, and Mississippi. This geographical game of life seemed to be perilous at times. Looking back though I see that it was merely another brick in the culmination of my constructive personality. I experienced different cultures, traditions and education, all in one country but vastly different. When I was in the 5th grade, square dancing was a requirement in the curriculum. Trust me, I couldn’t make that up. I lived through the great Hurricane Hugo of 1989. I spent summers on 8 Mile – yes, *that* 8 Mile. I’ve traded clothing with Russians – yes, in Russia. I’ve driven close to 200mph on multiple drag strips around the country. I made my first television commercial by the time I was 7. I’ve fired a 5″ 54cal Mark 45 gun off the fantail of the USS David R Ray in the middle of the Pacific and have the 3 foot long shell casing to prove it. I’ve had more surgeries from the neck up, than most people have visited a doctor at all.
Here we are in 2011, and I’m living in the Gateway to the West with 2 of the most beautiful and wonderful kids that God has put on this earth. January 11th will mark the 8th anniversary of my residence in this state. You may not give much acknowledgement to that, however for me, it is a great accomplishment. I am now proud to call Missouri my home state because it is officially the longest I’ve lived anywhere for a single period in my life. That may not hold true forever, but for now I’m going to embrace it. My life is wonderful. I have family that loves me. I have a humble home to call my own. I have a career that is growing and challenges me daily; I work with brilliant minds. My friends are of a flavor no man has ever known – they constantly amaze me with their zest, their compassion and their call to honor.
Maybe you live in Missouri; maybe you’ve lived here your entire life and see things differently. I encourage you to put on new glasses and view your home as not just the place where you squat at night, but your origin of sanctification. I encourage you to find that spirit of happiness that maybe you’ve lost because things have just been “the same” too long. Many of us spend our lives looking for that magical person or adventurous spot that will justify our very existence and fortify our quest, but often times, the very thing we’re looking for is the very thing we’re running from. Love yourself.
Double Cheeseburger Hamburger Helper was still stewing in my already disruptive digestive system, when Gwenny started bouncing around like a jumping bean. The girls were both playing in Rhyen’s room, on the other side of the house and I could hear them ok. I was sitting at my desk in my bedroom, checking things (you know, Facebook, Twitter, my mail order bride status) and Gwenny just would not stop acting like a goof ball. For sanity sake, I yelled out, “Rhyen…you guys doing ok?” ”Yeah, we’re fine” was the response I got back.
I went back to my computer and just ignored the dog. But she just kept getting more and more annoying. She started to prance back and forth from the bathroom in my bedroom. The door was slightly closed…and the lights were out. At this point, all I could think was that there was someone either trying to crawl in through the tiny bathroom window or….they were already in.
I did what any red-blooded American would do. I reached for my gun, pulled the slide back and yelled, “If you’re in there, I’d suggest you use your legs to walk out, while they still work.” ….. nothing …… silence ……
I barged in to find not even an open window…fortunately. At this point, Gwenny is still going nuts and starts to make her way toward the front door now. ”Maybe she scared the intruder off and they ran out front?” I turned the lights on outside, yelled to Rhyen one more time to make sure she was ok, and then opened the door. As I stood there, silently, alone, it wafted over me like the smell of cheap perfume. I knew that smell…THAT WAS SMOKE!
I ran back into the house, and there on the ceramic top stove was the dinner pan, burning and smoking the left over cuisine. I had forgotten to turn the burner off. All this time, Gwenny was trying to warn me of the soon-to-be fire. I couldn’t believe it! I was so happy…all I could do was bend over and kiss her! Of course I turned the burner off and took the pan off the stove as well.
The girls came running out, “What’s wrong Da……WHOA, WHAT HAPPENED!!” The door to Rhyen’s room was closed…they didn’t smell a thing. Once they figured out what Gwenny had done, they too began showering her with love. As I looked into those big brown eyes of hers, my blue eyes started to well up a little bit. I think she knew…in fact, I know she knew…exactly what she was doing. Thank you Gwenny. We love you.
In an impromptu fashion, as many tweetups are, a group of us gathered for brunch at Crooked Tree Coffee House in St. Charles. I hadn’t seen several of these tweeps in awhile so it was good to just kick back, relax and drink some good bottomless coffee. Crooked Tree is a great place to hang out with your friends because it’s got an eclectic environment, good coffee with free refills, great food (pastries, sandwiches, breakfast foods, etc) free wi-fi, and several comfy chairs and couches. You should definitely consider checking it out if you haven’t already.
Some other blogs written about the tweetup:
Todd Jordan: Crooked Tree Coffee House Tweetup
Karen Goodman: Coffee House Review – Crooked Tree Coffee House
1st Tweetup of 2010 on 12seconds.tv