Ann picks me up at 11 today to go to one of the few restaurants we like in town, the Bangkok House. Our experience this time particularly shows something about how our expectations have changed.

It hasn’t opened yet when we get there. Ok, we wait a couple minutes, no problem.

Once inside we are greeted by the familiar scowl of the lunchtime waitress who hates us because we like to order things. I check out the buffet and decide to order from the menu as usual. As I’m sitting down she barks, “That’s not your table!” Obediently I stand up and look around, but she just walks away. Ann shows me our table.

The waitress ignores us. Finally Ann chases her down and tells her we’re ordering from the menu. “Wait 10 minutes,” she says, “I have a lot of orders.” What else are we going to do? The food is worth it. We wait. Ann is shivering because they don’t turn on the heat until they open the doors. We laugh at ourselves. Would we have tolerated this treatment in Chicago or Sante Fe? No, it would be easier just to go somewhere else. In Ridgecrest it’s a treat, and if you don’t like it the alternatives aren’t pretty.

We do finally order and the food is good as always. We start to fantasize, though, about eating out when we get to Denver. Ethiopian! Indian! Places that actually want to make you happy! Of course, we won’t have any income and will probably fret over the bill. Or maybe we’ll just be too ecstatic to think of it.