Italian restaurants in port charlotte florida
How many McDonald's are there in the United States?
2023.06.05 04:56 Malinda-263 How many McDonald's are there in the United States?
 | https://preview.redd.it/nsg3j4bo644b1.jpg?width=1000&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=e2eef848a9a269d69b4c84e7dc41e1bfa3d37a02 submitted by Malinda-263 to u/Malinda-263 [link] [comments] Most people say how many Mcdonald's are there in the USA due to its worldwide popularity. However, there are 13,503 McDonald's restaurants in the United States. The state with the most number of McDonald's locations in the US is California, with 1,218 restaurants, which is about 9% of all McDonald's restaurants in the US. Here are the top 10 states with the most McDonald's restaurants:
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2023.06.05 04:02 gm33 Gluten-Free dinner options?
Hi! Looking for a nice gluten-free restaurant in SD, either seafood or Italian (no meat).
I did "find me gluten free", but either underwhelmed by the options or couldn't find GF menu online. Many of the options either only had a few meat items labled or didn't actually use GF products to make GF pasta dishes. I'm hoping to crowd source some options!
Critera:
submitted by gm33 to asksandiego [link] [comments]
I did "find me gluten free", but either underwhelmed by the options or couldn't find GF menu online. Many of the options either only had a few meat items labled or didn't actually use GF products to make GF pasta dishes. I'm hoping to crowd source some options!
Critera:
- Not too fancy but not overly fast-food or casual
- Something mostly chill/quiet for a nice relaxing evening
- Must have GF and vegetarian or pescetarian options for the same dish.
- If italian has pasta, non-meat options prepared GF (like eggplant parm)
- If seafood has seafood options that are prepared GF (like fish dishes with veggies)
- Bonus for specific GF-made desserts like GF cakes.
2023.06.05 03:48 AccomplishedCrazy_1 AITA for making the new girl work the night shift?
This happened a while ago and it hasn't left my mind. I work in an Italian restaurant in Manhattan as a cashierunner. Recently, a new girl, Lisa, was hired as the cashierunner for the night shift which sometimes I would work because they were understaffed. On Lisa’s first day, I worked a double shift because the manager wanted me to make sure she was doing alright and in case she had any questions and overall to make sure things ran smoothly since Saturday nights were some of the busiest times.
Everything goes fine, it’s an unusually slow Saturday evening, and we finish early. Lisa says as we’re changing to leave that she doesn’t like working so late at night. I told her whichever days she could work the day shift, I would be alright with working the nights. She just had to tell the manager so he could arrange the schedule. She did and he asked me if working nights Fridays and Saturdays was okay for me and I said yes.
Now, our schedule is emailed to us the Wednesday or Thursday for the following week. And Lisa’s first week, my schedule was already set for all day shifts and there weren’t any changes to it. I assumed I’d begin working Friday and Saturday night shifts the next week. Well, Friday, day shift, my manager tells me Saturday, the next day, I will be working the night shift. I was confused because I was scheduled for the day shift and I already had plans for Saturday night. I was even going to ask to leave a bit early.
I have really bad anxiety, so I was confused and panicking a bit since I didn’t want to come off as rude or anything, but I also had plans for the following night which I’d made with my friend three months ago. I let my manager know that on my schedule, I was set for all day shifts, and although he can count on me to work as late as needed almost every day, I had important plans I could not postpone, especially on such a short notice.
My manager understood and told me I could leave an hour early, and one of my coworkers would come in early to cover for me. He told me to just let Lisa know I would work that morning. Lisa was coming in late for the night shift which was making me more anxious because I wanted to be sure everything was okay. When she came in and I clocked out, I let her know the situation. Lisa said she couldn't work night either. I let our manager know this so we could come up with a solution. He simply said that Lisa had to come in for the night shift and he would speak to her.
I came in the next morning like usual, changed, clocked in, and began to open inside and outside. About ten minutes later, my coworker comes out to tell me Lisa arrived and was about to clock in when our manager stopped her. I don’t know what they talked about, but she left and I felt bad.
I couldn't postpone the plans I had and already mentioned them to my manager on some occasions. Was I an a-hole?
submitted by AccomplishedCrazy_1 to AmItheAsshole [link] [comments]
Everything goes fine, it’s an unusually slow Saturday evening, and we finish early. Lisa says as we’re changing to leave that she doesn’t like working so late at night. I told her whichever days she could work the day shift, I would be alright with working the nights. She just had to tell the manager so he could arrange the schedule. She did and he asked me if working nights Fridays and Saturdays was okay for me and I said yes.
Now, our schedule is emailed to us the Wednesday or Thursday for the following week. And Lisa’s first week, my schedule was already set for all day shifts and there weren’t any changes to it. I assumed I’d begin working Friday and Saturday night shifts the next week. Well, Friday, day shift, my manager tells me Saturday, the next day, I will be working the night shift. I was confused because I was scheduled for the day shift and I already had plans for Saturday night. I was even going to ask to leave a bit early.
I have really bad anxiety, so I was confused and panicking a bit since I didn’t want to come off as rude or anything, but I also had plans for the following night which I’d made with my friend three months ago. I let my manager know that on my schedule, I was set for all day shifts, and although he can count on me to work as late as needed almost every day, I had important plans I could not postpone, especially on such a short notice.
My manager understood and told me I could leave an hour early, and one of my coworkers would come in early to cover for me. He told me to just let Lisa know I would work that morning. Lisa was coming in late for the night shift which was making me more anxious because I wanted to be sure everything was okay. When she came in and I clocked out, I let her know the situation. Lisa said she couldn't work night either. I let our manager know this so we could come up with a solution. He simply said that Lisa had to come in for the night shift and he would speak to her.
I came in the next morning like usual, changed, clocked in, and began to open inside and outside. About ten minutes later, my coworker comes out to tell me Lisa arrived and was about to clock in when our manager stopped her. I don’t know what they talked about, but she left and I felt bad.
I couldn't postpone the plans I had and already mentioned them to my manager on some occasions. Was I an a-hole?
2023.06.05 03:46 jugglingjellybeans Just a bad ending of a day.
(Ooops. Long post. I like to whine.) I was having an ok day. Not a lot of orders, but I was getting better than average tips so I was earning, but my phone was acting up. The last couple of days I’ve noticed the battery has been charging slower and slower. Today I started with 100% charge and the phone still was at 50% a couple hours later with my phone plugged in while I was driving. Finally as I’m looking for an ATT store to try to get some help, my phone dies. I found my way to a store and spent an hour there doing some updates and clearing some storage space. My phone is charged. I’m a little annoyed I had to stop to deal with a phone not working when I’m still paying it off, but I go out to continue with more deliveries. The first job that comes up I thought said 1.2 miles for something like $12, so I thought it’d be an easy order. Unfortunately I didn’t look close enough at the map and mileage before I accepted it because it was more like 12 miles. Still, not terrible, but I was finding all this out as I was going through with the order. First the pick up restaurant wasn’t easy to find. It was on the 3rd floor of a weird multi story outdoor shopping, eatery. The signage for the restaurant was non existent. I had to call the restaurant to find out how to get to it. It was a very fancy Italian restaurant. While I’m walking back to my car with the order I see a text message from the customer saying to use the main entrance when I get there and to use the tablet by the door to get buzzed in. I think that’s helpful, but I’ll deal with that when I get there. I start off to the customer and see it’ll be 15 minutes before I get there. More disappointing news, but I’ve accepted at this point that I’ve misread the mileage and I’ll just finish the delivery and move on. As I get a few minutes away, the GPS has mw pull into a parking garage of what looks to be a very busy mall. I’ve delivered to a couple high rise apartments/condos that shared a parking entrance property with an outdoor shopping center before, so I thought this would be the same, but no, I find out once I’m in the garage that the GPS is leading me into a maze and the condo building is basically at the opposite area of where I’ve pulled into. The gps is changing on me as try to find my way around the parking maze. I try calling the customer to ask for help. She doesn’t answer. I leave a message stating my gps has led me into a parking garage that isn’t taking me to her buildin and that im having trouble getting to her. Im expecting understanding and some help. But instead she texts back “I left you the instructions to get into my building.” In order to get out of the garage and around the outdoor parking lot to where her building is im stuck in stop and go traffic for way too long. I finally make it though thr traffic, get to her dumbass high rise and drop off her order outside her door per the request. I send a final text with the photo explaining that the app gave me poor directions and apologized for the inconvenience. The whole order took an hour and ten minutes. She tipped $2. I feel a deep hatred for yuppies and UberEats right now. Mainly yuppies who are assholes. Being stuck in mall traffic while you’re trying to drop off a delivery to a woman who’s probably bad mouthing and insulting you is a day killer. Die yuppie scum (I don’t mean that).
submitted by jugglingjellybeans to UberEatsDrivers [link] [comments]
2023.06.05 03:33 ParthenonXF r/USDefaultism when an unspecified search = unspecified answer
 | submitted by ParthenonXF to AmericaBad [link] [comments] |
2023.06.05 03:07 London-Roma-1980 CONFERENCE MATCHDAY 1 PREVIEW
The time for figuring out conference strength is over. It's now time to figure out who the best is in each conference. In a way, this is a more important segment of the season, taking up 2/3 of the time and a majority of the games. From the MEAC Celebration Event to the Conference Tournaments, everything is on the line here.
And fortunately, the concentration of the top 25 in six conferences means we've got a lot of important games. We even kick off with a battle between two top 10 teams! Let's get to it.
*****
#6 Michigan State (9-3, 0-0) at #7 Michigan (9-3, 0-0). Michigan's struggle down the stretch, with two consecutive losses, leaves them behind their rival in the current rankings. But right away, they'll get a chance to fix it.
"Little Brother thinks they mean something right now, huh?" Juwan Howard joked. "We're ready for this. Forget about Big Ten, tournament seeding, ranking. We just wanna whup 'em."
Both teams faced off against top competition in the non-conference schedule, but Michigan holds the bigger upset, knocking off Duke in a stunning development. Michigan State, meanwhile, lost one of their three games with a short bench thanks to a brawl against Notre Dame.
"We're not doing that again if that's what you're asking," coach Tom Izzo said. "We're going to prove our might on the court by winning the game."
ROSTERS
LINE: Michigan by 2
*****
In addition to the conference play, there will be two sets of non-conference games going on during this season. One is a series of exhibitions in the ACC, as the North Division, Charter Division, and South Division All-Stars play a round robin. The North draws from Boston College, Louisville, Notre Dame, Pittsburgh, and Syracuse. The Charter draws from Clemson, Duke, NC State, North Carolina, and Wake Forest. The South draws from Florida State, Georgia Tech, Miami of Florida, Virginia, and Virginia Tech. Each squad sends three players to the All-Star showcases.
In addition, the MEAC teams will play an 8-team "in-season tournament" called the Celebration Tournament. Opening matches and positions in the bracket were decided by random draw. Your performance in the tournament is the second tiebreaker (behind in-season head-to-head) for conference standings.
*****
TOP 25 MATCHUPS
#18 DePaul (8-4, 0-0) at Georgetown (8-4, 0-0)
Providence (7-5, 0-0) at #15 Connecticut (9-3, 0-0)
#19 Illinois (8-4, 0-0) at #8 Indiana (10-2, 0-0)
#6 Michigan State (9-3, 0-0) at #7 Michigan (9-3, 0-0)
Minnesota (8-4, 0-0) at #13 Maryland (9-3, 0-0)
Wisconsin (8-4, 0-0) at #12 Ohio State (9-3, 0-0)
#17 Houston (9-3, 0-0) at #16 Texas (9-3, 0-0)
Iowa State (8-4, 0-0) at #4 Kansas (10-2, 0-0)
Texas Tech (8-4, 0-0) at #21 Cincinnati (9-3, 0-0)
California (9-3, 0-0) at #11 Southern Cal (9-3, 0-0)
Oregon (8-4, 0-0) at #10 Arizona (9-3, 0-0)
Stanford (8-4, 0-0) at #1 UCLA (12-0, 0-0)
#2 Kentucky (11-1, 0-0) at #25 Auburn (8-4, 0-0)
Mississippi State (7-5, 0-0) at #20 LSU (9-3, 0-0)
Tennessee (8-4, 0-0) at #23 Arkansas (9-3, 0-0)
Vanderbilt (7-5, 0-0) at #22 Alabama (9-3, 0-0)
ACC ALL-STAR CHALLENGE: Team South vs. Team Charter in Charlotte
submitted by London-Roma-1980 to BestOfDivI [link] [comments]
And fortunately, the concentration of the top 25 in six conferences means we've got a lot of important games. We even kick off with a battle between two top 10 teams! Let's get to it.
*****
#6 Michigan State (9-3, 0-0) at #7 Michigan (9-3, 0-0). Michigan's struggle down the stretch, with two consecutive losses, leaves them behind their rival in the current rankings. But right away, they'll get a chance to fix it.
"Little Brother thinks they mean something right now, huh?" Juwan Howard joked. "We're ready for this. Forget about Big Ten, tournament seeding, ranking. We just wanna whup 'em."
Both teams faced off against top competition in the non-conference schedule, but Michigan holds the bigger upset, knocking off Duke in a stunning development. Michigan State, meanwhile, lost one of their three games with a short bench thanks to a brawl against Notre Dame.
"We're not doing that again if that's what you're asking," coach Tom Izzo said. "We're going to prove our might on the court by winning the game."
ROSTERS
| Michigan State Spartans (9-3, 0-0) | # | Michigan Wolverines (9-3, 0-0) |
|---|---|---|
| Miles BRIDGES | 0 | Trey BURKE |
| Jamie FEICK | 1 | Jamal CRAWFORD |
| Draymond GREEN | 2 | Rickey GREEN |
| Johnny GREEN | 3 | Tim HARDAWAY Jr |
| Jaren JACKSON Jr | 4 | Juwan HOWARD |
| Magic JOHNSON | 5 | Phil HUBBARD |
| Morris PETERSON | 6 | Tim MCCORMICK |
| Zach RANDOLPH | 7 | Mike MCGEE |
| Jason RICHARDSON | 8 | Glen RICE |
| Ralph SIMPSON | 9 | Jalen ROSE |
| Scott SKILES | 10 | Campy RUSSELL |
| Steve SMITH | 11 | Cazzie RUSSELL |
| Eric SNOW | 12 | Roy TARPLEY |
| Jay VINCENT | 13 | Rudy TOMJANOVICH |
| Kevin WILLIS | 14 | Chris WEBBER |
*****
In addition to the conference play, there will be two sets of non-conference games going on during this season. One is a series of exhibitions in the ACC, as the North Division, Charter Division, and South Division All-Stars play a round robin. The North draws from Boston College, Louisville, Notre Dame, Pittsburgh, and Syracuse. The Charter draws from Clemson, Duke, NC State, North Carolina, and Wake Forest. The South draws from Florida State, Georgia Tech, Miami of Florida, Virginia, and Virginia Tech. Each squad sends three players to the All-Star showcases.
In addition, the MEAC teams will play an 8-team "in-season tournament" called the Celebration Tournament. Opening matches and positions in the bracket were decided by random draw. Your performance in the tournament is the second tiebreaker (behind in-season head-to-head) for conference standings.
*****
TOP 25 MATCHUPS
#18 DePaul (8-4, 0-0) at Georgetown (8-4, 0-0)
Providence (7-5, 0-0) at #15 Connecticut (9-3, 0-0)
#19 Illinois (8-4, 0-0) at #8 Indiana (10-2, 0-0)
#6 Michigan State (9-3, 0-0) at #7 Michigan (9-3, 0-0)
Minnesota (8-4, 0-0) at #13 Maryland (9-3, 0-0)
Wisconsin (8-4, 0-0) at #12 Ohio State (9-3, 0-0)
#17 Houston (9-3, 0-0) at #16 Texas (9-3, 0-0)
Iowa State (8-4, 0-0) at #4 Kansas (10-2, 0-0)
Texas Tech (8-4, 0-0) at #21 Cincinnati (9-3, 0-0)
California (9-3, 0-0) at #11 Southern Cal (9-3, 0-0)
Oregon (8-4, 0-0) at #10 Arizona (9-3, 0-0)
Stanford (8-4, 0-0) at #1 UCLA (12-0, 0-0)
#2 Kentucky (11-1, 0-0) at #25 Auburn (8-4, 0-0)
Mississippi State (7-5, 0-0) at #20 LSU (9-3, 0-0)
Tennessee (8-4, 0-0) at #23 Arkansas (9-3, 0-0)
Vanderbilt (7-5, 0-0) at #22 Alabama (9-3, 0-0)
ACC ALL-STAR CHALLENGE: Team South vs. Team Charter in Charlotte
2023.06.05 02:10 BERTHA77 Birthday weekend date plans in Charlotte - need your assistance!
Hello Charlotteans!
My girlfriend is doing her clinical internship in Charlotte this summer and I'll be driving from the Triangle area to spend the weekend of 6/16 - 6/18 to celebrate her birthday. I'd really love some suggestions on a few things to do. She was excited to go to the Van Gogh exhibit but I just looked it up and realized it's already moved on. She loves sushi (she went to Rockin' Rolls a couple of nights ago) and we both loveeee food in general. I worked in high-end restaurants for years for my first career, but we both love institutions and hole-in-the-wall places that serve great food. Also not adverse to one fancy meal out if the food is truly special. We both will have our dogs and love being outdoors in beautiful spaces while relaxing. We also like to hit ghost tours sometimes when we travel and are truly open to anything that makes your Queen City special. Many thanks in advance for any guidance you could offer and happy to return the favor when you visit Raleigh-Durham-Chapel Hill!
submitted by BERTHA77 to Charlotte [link] [comments]
My girlfriend is doing her clinical internship in Charlotte this summer and I'll be driving from the Triangle area to spend the weekend of 6/16 - 6/18 to celebrate her birthday. I'd really love some suggestions on a few things to do. She was excited to go to the Van Gogh exhibit but I just looked it up and realized it's already moved on. She loves sushi (she went to Rockin' Rolls a couple of nights ago) and we both loveeee food in general. I worked in high-end restaurants for years for my first career, but we both love institutions and hole-in-the-wall places that serve great food. Also not adverse to one fancy meal out if the food is truly special. We both will have our dogs and love being outdoors in beautiful spaces while relaxing. We also like to hit ghost tours sometimes when we travel and are truly open to anything that makes your Queen City special. Many thanks in advance for any guidance you could offer and happy to return the favor when you visit Raleigh-Durham-Chapel Hill!
2023.06.05 01:27 VictorGiannaccini Do you know somewhere in need of staff?
Hi guys,
I’ve been here in Zurich since a month ago.
Long story short: came here from Ireland to work at an italian restaurant in Thalwil, had the worst experience of all my life. 🤦🏻♂️
I have experience in two different fields: Sales/Accounting and I have also been a chef de partie for 2 years. 👨🏻🍳👨🏻💻
Able to speak english/italian/spanish and portuguese. All of them fluently. Unfortunately, I’m still in the process to learn german.
====Could anyone recommend me any place that I could go to get a job without speaking german? I’m in need of it (for obvious reasons; Switzerland!)=====
Swear that I’m going to a lot of places, applying for a lot of jobs, going personally to restaurants and all. But all these positions seems to be impossible to get without speaking german. I wish I had at least some time to get the chance to learn 😐😐
Appreciate all help in advance guys, Thanks!
submitted by VictorGiannaccini to zurich [link] [comments]
I’ve been here in Zurich since a month ago.
Long story short: came here from Ireland to work at an italian restaurant in Thalwil, had the worst experience of all my life. 🤦🏻♂️
I have experience in two different fields: Sales/Accounting and I have also been a chef de partie for 2 years. 👨🏻🍳👨🏻💻
Able to speak english/italian/spanish and portuguese. All of them fluently. Unfortunately, I’m still in the process to learn german.
====Could anyone recommend me any place that I could go to get a job without speaking german? I’m in need of it (for obvious reasons; Switzerland!)=====
Swear that I’m going to a lot of places, applying for a lot of jobs, going personally to restaurants and all. But all these positions seems to be impossible to get without speaking german. I wish I had at least some time to get the chance to learn 😐😐
Appreciate all help in advance guys, Thanks!
2023.06.05 01:17 Psychicinusa Indian astrologer in queens New York
 | CALIFORNIA - Los Angeles, Beach-Santa Ana, San Francisco, San Diego, Carlsbad, Sacramento, San Jose, Sunnyvale, Santa Clara, Oakland, Stockton NEW YORK - Queens, Jackson Heights, Flushing, Brooklyn, Manhattan, Bronx, Staten Islands, Jamaica, South Richmond Hill NEW JERSEY - Newark, Atlantic City, Jersey City, Trenton, Princeton, Hoboken, Paterson FLORIDA - Miami, Fort Lauderdale, West Palm Beach, Clearwater, Orlando, Kissimmee, Sanford TEXAS - Dallas, Fort Worth, Arlington, Houston, Sugar Land, Baytown, San Antonio, New Braunfels, Austin, Round Rock, San Marcos ILLINOIS - Chicago, Naperville, Virginia, Richmond, Virginia Beach MO–ILLINOIS- St. Louis, St. Charles, Farmington NORTH CAROLINA - Raleighh, Abbeville, Aiken, Allendale, Allendale, Charlotte, Greensboro, Durham OREGON - Portland, Salem, Gresham, Hillsboro, Cave Junction, Vancouver, Corvallis PENNSYLVANIA - Philadelphia, York, Allentown, Altoona, Carbondale, Camden, Pittsburgh, Wilmington PA-OH-WV - Pittsburgh, New Castle, Weirton MISSOURI-KS- Kansas City, St. Louis, Springfield, Columbia, St. Joseph, Joplin, Jefferson City ARKANSAS- Springdale, Fort Smith, Fayetteville, Rogers, Jonesboro, Pine Bluff, Russellville WISCONSIN- Milwaukee, Abbotsford, Bayfield, Racine, Waukesha, West Allis GEORGIA - Atlanta, Savannah, Augusta MARYLAND - Baltimore, Annapolis, Ocean City, Town Son, Columbia WASHINGTON- Seattle, Tacoma, Bellevue, Auburn, Aberdeen, Black Diamond, Colfax CONNECTICUT - Bridgeport, Hartford, New Haven, Stamford, Waterbury, Middletown, Ansonia Philadelphia: Pennsylvania, Harrisburg PHILADELPHIA - Pennsylvania, Harrisburg MINNESOTA- Minneapolis, Saint Paul, Saint Paul, Bloomington, Duluth, Brooklyn Park VIRGINIA - Richmond, Alexandria, Virginia Beach, Chesapeake, Portsmouth, Charlottesville, Winchester, Staunton, Radford MICHIGAN - Livonia, Detroit , Grand Rapids, Warren, Sterling Heights, Ann Arbor, Ocean City COLORADO - Denver, Aurora, Lakewood, Abbeyville, Abeyta, Bald Mountain, Beartown ,Cabin Creek ARIZONA- Phoenix, Mesa, Glendale MASSACHUSETTS- Boston, Cambridge, Abington, Agawam, Bernardston, Chesterfield, Danvers, Edgartown INDIANA- Fort Wayne, Maysville, Indianapolis, Carmel, Muncie, Anderson, Bloomington, Greenwood OHIO- Cleveland, Akron, Canton , Cincinnati, Lake Erie, Cincinnati, Sandusky, Athens, Dayton, Port Clinton submitted by Psychicinusa to u/Psychicinusa [link] [comments] |
2023.06.05 00:01 BeginningCry0 MMC finds FMC betrayed him
Hi guys,
I am dying to remember this book ! I know the following details, please help: 1. FMC is hired by her relative to spy on MMC's company who also happen to be his step dad. The step dad thinks MMC has a spy in his company. 2. FMC tries to sabotage her job interview in MMC's company because she doesn't want to spy. 3. She is Italian. 4. MMC is friends with the owner of an Italian restaurant, the owner of which had three sons, i think. Also he invested in the restaurant. 5. Third act, MMC finds out the truth through some pictures and banishes her. It's freezing and FMC walks the whole way to the restaurant and collapses when she reaches there.
TIA if anyone know this one!
submitted by BeginningCry0 to RomanceBooks [link] [comments]
I am dying to remember this book ! I know the following details, please help: 1. FMC is hired by her relative to spy on MMC's company who also happen to be his step dad. The step dad thinks MMC has a spy in his company. 2. FMC tries to sabotage her job interview in MMC's company because she doesn't want to spy. 3. She is Italian. 4. MMC is friends with the owner of an Italian restaurant, the owner of which had three sons, i think. Also he invested in the restaurant. 5. Third act, MMC finds out the truth through some pictures and banishes her. It's freezing and FMC walks the whole way to the restaurant and collapses when she reaches there.
TIA if anyone know this one!
2023.06.04 23:36 Strict_Substance2585 Another Itinerary Post
Between me and my girlfriend's schedules we've only got a week and we're trying to hit Olympic, Rainier, and spend a little time in Seattle.
We'll be in Olympic from June 30 - July 3. From Florida, first time in the area
June 30 - we fly in to Seattle and land a 1:15 PM. We'll get our rental car and drive over to Port Angeles where we have an Air BnB.
July 1 - Was thinking Crescent Lake Area. Was hoping to hit Marymere Falls (maybe Mount Storm King?), Sol Duc Falls, and Devil's Punch Bowl. Girlfriend is a bit nervous about Storm King and I could live without it, but would like to do it
July 2 - Hoh Rain Forrest and Rialto Beach
July 3 - We check out of the Air BnB and have to head over to Ashford at some point in the day but were planning on doing something in the morning in to the early afternoon before driving over. Slab Camp Trail looked pretty cool?
I'm usually not much of a planner and just play things by ear but with our limited time I want to make sure we're not over extending but also don't want to be too light.
I was also curious about switching July 2 and 3? Going to Hoh and Rialto and then making our way down 101 over to Ashford. Driving a good distance isn't an issue but wasn't sure if that'd be way too much.
Open to any and all suggestions and thanks in advance!
submitted by Strict_Substance2585 to OlympicNationalPark [link] [comments]
We'll be in Olympic from June 30 - July 3. From Florida, first time in the area
June 30 - we fly in to Seattle and land a 1:15 PM. We'll get our rental car and drive over to Port Angeles where we have an Air BnB.
July 1 - Was thinking Crescent Lake Area. Was hoping to hit Marymere Falls (maybe Mount Storm King?), Sol Duc Falls, and Devil's Punch Bowl. Girlfriend is a bit nervous about Storm King and I could live without it, but would like to do it
July 2 - Hoh Rain Forrest and Rialto Beach
July 3 - We check out of the Air BnB and have to head over to Ashford at some point in the day but were planning on doing something in the morning in to the early afternoon before driving over. Slab Camp Trail looked pretty cool?
I'm usually not much of a planner and just play things by ear but with our limited time I want to make sure we're not over extending but also don't want to be too light.
I was also curious about switching July 2 and 3? Going to Hoh and Rialto and then making our way down 101 over to Ashford. Driving a good distance isn't an issue but wasn't sure if that'd be way too much.
Open to any and all suggestions and thanks in advance!
2023.06.04 23:12 Harveyspectator07 Shangri La delhi - Sorrento (shittiest restuarant)
So I went to this restaurant in Shangri La Sorrento the italian restaurant and honestly both service and food was shit!
I ordered for a pizza and it had lierally no flavour and just overpriced!
These restaurant managers at hotels are equally dumb these days.
Their bald chef came and told no this is good. I didn’t want to argue so I stepped out.
I would give this place a 0.5/10.
Never ever got to this place even if the food is free because sevice is terrible!
What do you guys think?
submitted by Harveyspectator07 to delhi [link] [comments]
I ordered for a pizza and it had lierally no flavour and just overpriced!
These restaurant managers at hotels are equally dumb these days.
Their bald chef came and told no this is good. I didn’t want to argue so I stepped out.
I would give this place a 0.5/10.
Never ever got to this place even if the food is free because sevice is terrible!
What do you guys think?
2023.06.04 22:51 thomasdb11 Chef's Pop Up
 | We are hosting a Chef's Evening in collaboration with Origins. Join us on Saturday 10 June for a delicious 3-course seasonal menu made with love. submitted by thomasdb11 to Luxembourg [link] [comments] Chef Tommy is trained in French and Italian cuisine in multiple restaurants and has started his culinary journey when he was 20. He has since explored his passion for mixing North African flavours with traditional French cuisine. This is his second chef's pop up in Luxembourg and he can't wait to share his passion with you. When: Saturday 10 June, reservations from 7pm until 9pm Where: Origins Wine Bar & Taperia, Gasperich What: 3-course dinner menu €50, or €80 with a wine pairing Curious? Book your table now (limited spaces available) If you have any questions please do not hesitate to contact me. Big thank you for your support! |
2023.06.04 22:36 Mrdomo On the hunt for Stracciatella
Hello all, I used to work at a restaurant that used Stracciatella for a dish. Id like to buy some but forgot the name of the Italian producer. It came in a white plastic tin like you see tofu in and a peel away cover with a cartoon version of one or two skinny cows grazing in a field. Any help would be appreciated. Thanks!
submitted by Mrdomo to Cheese [link] [comments]
2023.06.04 22:32 Mother_Tell998 A very long joke
(Apologies to anyone who reads this in full. But this joke is hideously long on purpose. It's effects are best if you actually sit someone down and tell it to them. I took up my workmates entire lunch break with this and he hasn't spoken to me all evening.)
There are one hundred priests of an unspecified religion. They have arrived dressed in the symbols of their faith in a new land to spread the word of their 'Superbook'. This could be any land, France, Egypt, Feudal Japan, the Toronto Film Festival, any land. Absolutely any land you can imagine, Gondor, Pangaea, 1992 or your own home and surrounding lands which are unique to you.
Upon arriving in this strange new land they learn that the people here have no knowledge of Superbook. They decide that the best way to spread the word is to construct a building as a symbol of the new faith. So they purchased some basic tools and set to work gathering wood for their shrine. As there were one hundred priests in their prime the shrine was constructed in under a week.
It was a basic thing. The sort of shrine you would look at and say "that's pretty shit. Did children build this? You didn't tell me there were feral children around.". A central trunk with a roughly carved deity symbol nailed to the top stood in a forest clearing. A few rows of log seats encircled it and around the edges stood a few tall torches burning incense.
The priests stood back and looked proud over their creation, happy that they could begin spreading the words and illustrations of Superbook. It was suggested by one of the priests that "Hey we should go for a drink to celebrate our success!" to which exactly half of the priests thought would be a good idea. So fifty of the priests headed down to the local pub where they spent the night drinking whatever beverages Superbook allowed.
Upon returning from their celebrations the priests were greeted by a horrifying sight. "Have I got beverage in my eyes!?" one of the priests was heard to say "or has something destroyed our shrine!?". The priest was correct, before them lay the ruins of their primitive shrine, a tangle of wood and limbs all set ablaze by the incense torches.
How exactly all fifty priests who remained at the shrine managed to perish as the single tall, thin structure collapsed remains a mystery to this day. As the priests stood in shock staring and mourning over their lost friends, one of them turned to notice something that looked out of place. As he squinted he could make out on the horizon a figure all in black, speeding away on an unspecified vehicle. It could be a motorbike, a sports car, a horse and carriage, a horse without a carriage, absolutely any vehicle you can think of, a bicycle, a unicycle, a pangolin, or a petrol powered pangolin.
But it was too late, the man disappeared over the horizon. As the remaining priests gathered their thoughts, one of them suggested that they should not be discouraged, and that their fallen friends would want them to rebuild the shrine in memory of them.
The priests agreed and set about building a new shrine! bigger and better than the first to remember this tragic day. They quarried stones, they cut down trees and they sewed curtains, nice curtains, I mean REALLY nice curtains, with tassels and everything. It took the fifty priests a few weeks to complete but eventually they were able to stand back and admire their new creation.
It was a quaint chapel on the hill. The sort of chapel you would look at and say "hey look at that quaint little chapel, and oh damn check out those nice curtains!". A trodden dirt path led to the entrance of a small stone structure, inside was the picture of simplicity and modesty. A few rows of pews on a polished wooden floor, and an altar stood in front of a patchwork deity symbol.
As the priests admired their new chapel, they remarked that yes, their fallen friends would be happy with this. One of the priests suggested that they visit a local theme park to celebrate this day. Exactly half of the priests agreed, they spent the day riding deity approved rides, gambling deity approved amounts of money and not riding deity condemned rides.
Upon returning from their celebrations the priests were greeted by a horrifying sight. "Have I got deity approved theme park snacks in my eyes!?" one of the priests was heard to say "or has something destroyed our chapel!?". The priest was correct, on the hill lay a pill of stone rubble, limbs and silky smooth curtain tassels.... which was all on fire for some reason.
As the priests stood staring in horror over their lost friends, one of them turned to notice something that, yes, upon the horizon he could just make out the man in black speeding into the distance. But it was too late, he was gone. As the remaining priests took care of the dead in the way decreed by Superbook, one of them suggested that this should not be the end, and that their fallen friends would want them to rebuild the chapel in memory of them.
The priests agreed and set about pillaging neighbouring villages for building supplies. They gathered glass, mixed cement, smelted iron, mined for gold and expanded their quarry. They didn't just rebuild the chapel, they built a fully fledged church! The sort of church that when you refer to it like "Oh it's up by the church", people would know what you are talking about and benefit from your informative directions. It had taken the twenty five priests six months of labour but there it stood. A paved path led through an iron fence, protection against and would-be-church-destroyers and towards an imposing stone structure. Stain glass windows adorned the front complete with deity symbols, the pews could seat a thousand and a golden forged Superbook sat upon the altar.
The twenty five priests patted themselves on the back and said a prayer for the lost friends. One priest suggested that after six months they deserved a celebratory meal to mark the occasion. Twelve priests agreed whilst the rest stayed to rest, content in the safety of their shiny new iron fence. The twelve priests spent the evening at a nearby Italian restaurant, because everyone is allowed to eat Italian food.
After an evening of scoffing increasingly abstract pasta shapes the twelve priests returned to their church. One of the priests was heard to say "Have I got tagliatelle in my eye!? Or has someone knocked down our church!? AGAIN!" The scene that greeted them was one of sorrow and anger. Sorrow for their dead friends, crushed under heaps of stone and glass. Anger at their dead friends, for placing so much faith in an iron fence. Yet more anger at the figure they could see vanishing over the horizon.
At this point you are probably thinking that these priests are idiots, that surely they can understand the pattern by now that building a church plus staying in the church equals death. You would also think that after the previous events they would not believe that the solution would be to build a bigger church.... as this in no way addresses the problem at hand. You may think that surely he can't just keep rambling on like this and that he will wrap this up soon, after all we have figured out the pattern of the joke and we know where it is going anyway.
So one of the priests, suffering from long term memory loss, suggested that to honour their friends they should build a new monument to their faith. The others, after giving him concerned looks, figured they had come this far and, resigned to their fate, they agreed. The priests then spent the next five years ravaging the lands for resources. They felled forests, flattened hills and drove the critically endangered Pentapus to extinction to use their tears for cement (its like an octopus but it only has five arms... and only has five eyes.)
After a further five years of construction, they were finally able to stand back, crane their necks high, and admire their creation. This was a truly great achievement. This was now a cathedral, the sort of cathedral that architecture student congregate around. The sort of structure that everyone for miles around would refer to as "That massive f***ing monstrosity made of tears" and there would be weird rumors like "at night I've heard that you can hear the pentapusses crying from inside the walls". Whether these rumors were true or not, it was an impressive building. The size of an aeroplane hangar. It had an attached aeroplane hangar. It was the first cathedral built with a solid steel support structure and, for added protection, a moat and barbwire fence surrounded it.
The priests had been at the whole 'building monuments for the Superbook' for many years now and were getting old and tired. One of them suggested that they should take a trip to a local spa for a day of relaxation after this great achievement, "after all..." he said "page 69 of Superbook does proclaim in giant text, 'Thou shalt spa'". Five other priests, who probably had better survival instincts, agreed and the six of them took off. Six remained content in their reinforced structure, even taking shifts to keep watch for added security.
The six who left spent the day wallowing in mud, having cucumbers placed on various body parts and being generally as un-energetic as possible. They were also pleasantly surprised to find that their local infamy granted them free access to all the spas facilities. After they had left in their own time and the spa owner barred the doors shut behind them they headed back to their church.
"Have I still got cucumber in my eye!?" one of the six said as their home loomed on the horizon, "or has someone destroyed our church!?"
The priest was correct. As they approached and crossed the moat they found a towering pile of rubble. There was an eerie silence as they glared at the destruction, picturing their dead friends somewhere inside. The silence was only broken by the sound of the man in black speeding off over the horizon and the joyous cries of Pentapus souls being freed.
The sight of the man in black filled one of the priests with rage. He turned to the others and said "Hey I know what we need to do!" ... The others agreed before he had chance to say what it was.
The priests set about gathering more resources. After the ten years it took them to gather this, they were surrounded by a scorched barren earth. They had felled all the trees for twenty miles, flattened the earth, hunted all life to extinction (I mean all life, even worms... they took all the worms and used them to lure down all the birds. Then they trained the birds to help lift heavy objects for them. Then they ate the birds. Then they made a monument to remember the birds. Then they... didn't really put much effort into maintaining it and it ran into disrepair... the end), drained lakes and sucked clouds from the sky somehow.
It took a further ten years for the small group of ageing priests to complete their construction. For the sake of this story four of the priests died during a slave bird rebellion that was later crushed. Mainly because I can't think of many more advancing stages of church besides going into ghost churches or space churches, though those would be awesome.
Their creation could barely be called a church.Yes it was built in the shape of their deity symbol and inside were super mahogany (like regular mahogany only more awesome) pews and a diamond pulpit, but to all other purposes this was a fortress. The entire structure was titanium, standing thirty stories high. It was surrounded with laser fences, laser moats full of lasers, and atop the building were placed a cluster of guns which shot bullets which were also made of lasers. There were immense speaker systems built into the walls which issued threats as well as religious good will messages to all who approached. It was the sort of church that you wouldn't say anything about... because the church would know what you said and rain lasers upon you.
The doom of the man in black was built. But they needed bait. The two old priests drew straws to decide who would stay. The priest who left made it known that he would be leaving for a day on the beach.
He spent his day pretending to sunbathe, pretending to build sandcastles and pretending to dip his toes in the water. Until he heard a commotion in the distance. He raced back towards his fortress with a smile on his face, the sort of smile you would have if the person who has killed ninety eight of your closest ninety nine friends had been killed. When he could peer over the next horizon however, his smile vanished. All he could see in front of him was a smoking heap of titanium and misfiring lasers. As he peered through the smoke he could make out the man in black making his escape.
Something inside him had told him that this would happen and this time he was prepared. He knew there was no sand in his eyes... he had only been pretending to touch the sand. He ran behind a nearby bush and hopped aboard his Super Priesty Priest Scooter and gave chase.
Through the desolate lands he chased the man, gaining ever so slowly until after hours, to the priests surprise, the man had pulled over. The priest pulled up and approached the man, his face red with rage.
"HAVE YOU BEEN KNOCKING DOWN OUR CHURCHES!?" The priest roared.
And the man replied
"...... no....... "
submitted by Mother_Tell998 to Jokes [link] [comments]
There are one hundred priests of an unspecified religion. They have arrived dressed in the symbols of their faith in a new land to spread the word of their 'Superbook'. This could be any land, France, Egypt, Feudal Japan, the Toronto Film Festival, any land. Absolutely any land you can imagine, Gondor, Pangaea, 1992 or your own home and surrounding lands which are unique to you.
Upon arriving in this strange new land they learn that the people here have no knowledge of Superbook. They decide that the best way to spread the word is to construct a building as a symbol of the new faith. So they purchased some basic tools and set to work gathering wood for their shrine. As there were one hundred priests in their prime the shrine was constructed in under a week.
It was a basic thing. The sort of shrine you would look at and say "that's pretty shit. Did children build this? You didn't tell me there were feral children around.". A central trunk with a roughly carved deity symbol nailed to the top stood in a forest clearing. A few rows of log seats encircled it and around the edges stood a few tall torches burning incense.
The priests stood back and looked proud over their creation, happy that they could begin spreading the words and illustrations of Superbook. It was suggested by one of the priests that "Hey we should go for a drink to celebrate our success!" to which exactly half of the priests thought would be a good idea. So fifty of the priests headed down to the local pub where they spent the night drinking whatever beverages Superbook allowed.
Upon returning from their celebrations the priests were greeted by a horrifying sight. "Have I got beverage in my eyes!?" one of the priests was heard to say "or has something destroyed our shrine!?". The priest was correct, before them lay the ruins of their primitive shrine, a tangle of wood and limbs all set ablaze by the incense torches.
How exactly all fifty priests who remained at the shrine managed to perish as the single tall, thin structure collapsed remains a mystery to this day. As the priests stood in shock staring and mourning over their lost friends, one of them turned to notice something that looked out of place. As he squinted he could make out on the horizon a figure all in black, speeding away on an unspecified vehicle. It could be a motorbike, a sports car, a horse and carriage, a horse without a carriage, absolutely any vehicle you can think of, a bicycle, a unicycle, a pangolin, or a petrol powered pangolin.
But it was too late, the man disappeared over the horizon. As the remaining priests gathered their thoughts, one of them suggested that they should not be discouraged, and that their fallen friends would want them to rebuild the shrine in memory of them.
The priests agreed and set about building a new shrine! bigger and better than the first to remember this tragic day. They quarried stones, they cut down trees and they sewed curtains, nice curtains, I mean REALLY nice curtains, with tassels and everything. It took the fifty priests a few weeks to complete but eventually they were able to stand back and admire their new creation.
It was a quaint chapel on the hill. The sort of chapel you would look at and say "hey look at that quaint little chapel, and oh damn check out those nice curtains!". A trodden dirt path led to the entrance of a small stone structure, inside was the picture of simplicity and modesty. A few rows of pews on a polished wooden floor, and an altar stood in front of a patchwork deity symbol.
As the priests admired their new chapel, they remarked that yes, their fallen friends would be happy with this. One of the priests suggested that they visit a local theme park to celebrate this day. Exactly half of the priests agreed, they spent the day riding deity approved rides, gambling deity approved amounts of money and not riding deity condemned rides.
Upon returning from their celebrations the priests were greeted by a horrifying sight. "Have I got deity approved theme park snacks in my eyes!?" one of the priests was heard to say "or has something destroyed our chapel!?". The priest was correct, on the hill lay a pill of stone rubble, limbs and silky smooth curtain tassels.... which was all on fire for some reason.
As the priests stood staring in horror over their lost friends, one of them turned to notice something that, yes, upon the horizon he could just make out the man in black speeding into the distance. But it was too late, he was gone. As the remaining priests took care of the dead in the way decreed by Superbook, one of them suggested that this should not be the end, and that their fallen friends would want them to rebuild the chapel in memory of them.
The priests agreed and set about pillaging neighbouring villages for building supplies. They gathered glass, mixed cement, smelted iron, mined for gold and expanded their quarry. They didn't just rebuild the chapel, they built a fully fledged church! The sort of church that when you refer to it like "Oh it's up by the church", people would know what you are talking about and benefit from your informative directions. It had taken the twenty five priests six months of labour but there it stood. A paved path led through an iron fence, protection against and would-be-church-destroyers and towards an imposing stone structure. Stain glass windows adorned the front complete with deity symbols, the pews could seat a thousand and a golden forged Superbook sat upon the altar.
The twenty five priests patted themselves on the back and said a prayer for the lost friends. One priest suggested that after six months they deserved a celebratory meal to mark the occasion. Twelve priests agreed whilst the rest stayed to rest, content in the safety of their shiny new iron fence. The twelve priests spent the evening at a nearby Italian restaurant, because everyone is allowed to eat Italian food.
After an evening of scoffing increasingly abstract pasta shapes the twelve priests returned to their church. One of the priests was heard to say "Have I got tagliatelle in my eye!? Or has someone knocked down our church!? AGAIN!" The scene that greeted them was one of sorrow and anger. Sorrow for their dead friends, crushed under heaps of stone and glass. Anger at their dead friends, for placing so much faith in an iron fence. Yet more anger at the figure they could see vanishing over the horizon.
At this point you are probably thinking that these priests are idiots, that surely they can understand the pattern by now that building a church plus staying in the church equals death. You would also think that after the previous events they would not believe that the solution would be to build a bigger church.... as this in no way addresses the problem at hand. You may think that surely he can't just keep rambling on like this and that he will wrap this up soon, after all we have figured out the pattern of the joke and we know where it is going anyway.
So one of the priests, suffering from long term memory loss, suggested that to honour their friends they should build a new monument to their faith. The others, after giving him concerned looks, figured they had come this far and, resigned to their fate, they agreed. The priests then spent the next five years ravaging the lands for resources. They felled forests, flattened hills and drove the critically endangered Pentapus to extinction to use their tears for cement (its like an octopus but it only has five arms... and only has five eyes.)
After a further five years of construction, they were finally able to stand back, crane their necks high, and admire their creation. This was a truly great achievement. This was now a cathedral, the sort of cathedral that architecture student congregate around. The sort of structure that everyone for miles around would refer to as "That massive f***ing monstrosity made of tears" and there would be weird rumors like "at night I've heard that you can hear the pentapusses crying from inside the walls". Whether these rumors were true or not, it was an impressive building. The size of an aeroplane hangar. It had an attached aeroplane hangar. It was the first cathedral built with a solid steel support structure and, for added protection, a moat and barbwire fence surrounded it.
The priests had been at the whole 'building monuments for the Superbook' for many years now and were getting old and tired. One of them suggested that they should take a trip to a local spa for a day of relaxation after this great achievement, "after all..." he said "page 69 of Superbook does proclaim in giant text, 'Thou shalt spa'". Five other priests, who probably had better survival instincts, agreed and the six of them took off. Six remained content in their reinforced structure, even taking shifts to keep watch for added security.
The six who left spent the day wallowing in mud, having cucumbers placed on various body parts and being generally as un-energetic as possible. They were also pleasantly surprised to find that their local infamy granted them free access to all the spas facilities. After they had left in their own time and the spa owner barred the doors shut behind them they headed back to their church.
"Have I still got cucumber in my eye!?" one of the six said as their home loomed on the horizon, "or has someone destroyed our church!?"
The priest was correct. As they approached and crossed the moat they found a towering pile of rubble. There was an eerie silence as they glared at the destruction, picturing their dead friends somewhere inside. The silence was only broken by the sound of the man in black speeding off over the horizon and the joyous cries of Pentapus souls being freed.
The sight of the man in black filled one of the priests with rage. He turned to the others and said "Hey I know what we need to do!" ... The others agreed before he had chance to say what it was.
The priests set about gathering more resources. After the ten years it took them to gather this, they were surrounded by a scorched barren earth. They had felled all the trees for twenty miles, flattened the earth, hunted all life to extinction (I mean all life, even worms... they took all the worms and used them to lure down all the birds. Then they trained the birds to help lift heavy objects for them. Then they ate the birds. Then they made a monument to remember the birds. Then they... didn't really put much effort into maintaining it and it ran into disrepair... the end), drained lakes and sucked clouds from the sky somehow.
It took a further ten years for the small group of ageing priests to complete their construction. For the sake of this story four of the priests died during a slave bird rebellion that was later crushed. Mainly because I can't think of many more advancing stages of church besides going into ghost churches or space churches, though those would be awesome.
Their creation could barely be called a church.Yes it was built in the shape of their deity symbol and inside were super mahogany (like regular mahogany only more awesome) pews and a diamond pulpit, but to all other purposes this was a fortress. The entire structure was titanium, standing thirty stories high. It was surrounded with laser fences, laser moats full of lasers, and atop the building were placed a cluster of guns which shot bullets which were also made of lasers. There were immense speaker systems built into the walls which issued threats as well as religious good will messages to all who approached. It was the sort of church that you wouldn't say anything about... because the church would know what you said and rain lasers upon you.
The doom of the man in black was built. But they needed bait. The two old priests drew straws to decide who would stay. The priest who left made it known that he would be leaving for a day on the beach.
He spent his day pretending to sunbathe, pretending to build sandcastles and pretending to dip his toes in the water. Until he heard a commotion in the distance. He raced back towards his fortress with a smile on his face, the sort of smile you would have if the person who has killed ninety eight of your closest ninety nine friends had been killed. When he could peer over the next horizon however, his smile vanished. All he could see in front of him was a smoking heap of titanium and misfiring lasers. As he peered through the smoke he could make out the man in black making his escape.
Something inside him had told him that this would happen and this time he was prepared. He knew there was no sand in his eyes... he had only been pretending to touch the sand. He ran behind a nearby bush and hopped aboard his Super Priesty Priest Scooter and gave chase.
Through the desolate lands he chased the man, gaining ever so slowly until after hours, to the priests surprise, the man had pulled over. The priest pulled up and approached the man, his face red with rage.
"HAVE YOU BEEN KNOCKING DOWN OUR CHURCHES!?" The priest roared.
And the man replied
"...... no....... "
2023.06.04 22:19 Effective_Machine_62 🌯🍛 Calling South Florida Foodies! Vote for the Best Arab Restaurants in our Community! 🌴🍽️
Hey food lovers,
We need your help! Share your favorite Arab restaurant in South Florida below. Let's uncover the top spots together and create a go-to list of delicious dining experiences. Comment with your pick and a brief description of what makes it special. Ready, set, vote! 🌯🍛🌴🍽️
submitted by Effective_Machine_62 to miamiarabs [link] [comments]
We need your help! Share your favorite Arab restaurant in South Florida below. Let's uncover the top spots together and create a go-to list of delicious dining experiences. Comment with your pick and a brief description of what makes it special. Ready, set, vote! 🌯🍛🌴🍽️
2023.06.04 21:14 quakebutter Lady likes to torture servers I guess
I’m waiting this two top. A couple, older. They ordered a bunch of appetizers, and then couldn’t get through their main courses. They asked me for boxes, and said they were super full. I dropped the check, and when I came back to run the card the lady says, “why didn’t you offer us desert or coffee?” I said, “you just told me you were full.” It was 9:00 PM and I don’t work at an Italian restaurant. I’m in Los Angeles and It’s rare that anyone ever wants coffee after dinner. She kept pushing me to tell her why I didn’t offer her coffee and I said, “well that’s kind of like an old school Italian thing, people don’t really do that here that often.” Then she said, “oh so you’re calling me old, just digging yourself deeper.” I ran their card and told them to have a great night. They left some scathing review about it on yelp and now I’m in trouble. Very stupid. The type of jerk that just expects to world to bend to their expectations. Eat my shorts lady.
submitted by quakebutter to Serverlife [link] [comments]
2023.06.04 20:02 PhrygianSounds This is a punishment
My grandparents wanted to take me out for my birthday a few days ago, and keep in mind I’ve been home for 9 months now. I was about to decline their invite like I have done several times with other friends and family over the past year, but I decided that since they’re getting very old and time is running out, I’ll go with them to dinner.
We went to this Italian restaurant and it was very good but the place was absolutely packed. I was nervous the whole time honestly and couldn’t really enjoy myself (which anhedonia & DPDR makes that hard in itself..) but wanted to do it for them.
Now three days later I have a tickle in my throat and I swear to God if I caught this virus again. It feels like a punishment. All I wanted to do was spend quality time with my grandparents. Why does it have to be a punishment?
submitted by PhrygianSounds to covidlonghaulers [link] [comments]
We went to this Italian restaurant and it was very good but the place was absolutely packed. I was nervous the whole time honestly and couldn’t really enjoy myself (which anhedonia & DPDR makes that hard in itself..) but wanted to do it for them.
Now three days later I have a tickle in my throat and I swear to God if I caught this virus again. It feels like a punishment. All I wanted to do was spend quality time with my grandparents. Why does it have to be a punishment?
2023.06.04 19:48 lets-split-up I went on a cruise, and all the passengers were dead…
If I’d only followed my instincts, I’d never have boarded that doomed ship. When the Azure Seastar left port, its passengers were all alive, each with smart phones and watches and tablets, as well as the cruise ship’s own communications… yet not a single message was sent before it went missing! No distress call.
The fates of over a thousand passengers and crew remain unknown, with only a handful recovered from a lifeboat, days after the Seastar herself vanished. But the coast guard’s only statement on the lifeboat’s recovery was that “the passengers did not survive.” Rumors circulated about a “thermos full of eyeballs” and a “passenger whose mouth was stuffed full of severed fingers”—but these details have been denounced as lies, sensationalizing and capitalizing on a tragedy.
The official cause of the Seastar’s disappearance is a rogue wave. No survivors. No witnesses.
Well… one witness…
… but perhaps I shouldn’t tell. Better for the world if that ship stay lost forever!
The families of the missing, however, deserve the truth… which is why I am posting.
But first, a warning—the gruesome snippets I recounted above barely scratch the surface of the horror I am about to share, some of which I took part in. I wake screaming every night. I sleep with the lights on. I never enter darkened hallways or stairwells. And I do not ever shake hands. Although I’ve always had some quirks (the handshake one is an old habit), most of these are fresh, a consequence of my time aboard that doomed cruise ship. I do not intend to gloss over any details, but rather to give a complete accounting, including of my own involvement… so be forewarned.
And understand that my story is one of unimaginable horror.
***
To explain what really happened aboard the Seastar, I need to first tell a little about myself. Sorry, I know I’m like a bit of decorative wallpaper—just sort of there. But I see things.
It all started when I was very young (I do promise this is relevant). I didn’t want to swim in the community pool with my brother because the water was cloudy, hiding a shadowy figure in the deep end. I distinctly remember standing at the pool’s edge, crying inconsolably while my father urged, “Go on, jump in!”
My brother set the example, diving down to the bottom of the foggy water. When he came up, a silver dollar glinted in his fingers, which he dropped back into the pool before I could snatch it. “Oops! Guess you gotta dive for it!” He laughed, the sun shimmering off his sunburned shoulders. “Come on, there’s quarters down here, too!”
Diving for coins was a game we often played, so I plunged in after him, kicking my way down with my eyes squeezed shut. When my hands grazed the rough cement bottom, I patted around.
Silky hair tangled around my fingers like seaweed.
I forced my eyes open against the stinging chlorine—and shrieked.
Wide, empty eyes stared back at me from a bloated face.
When I shot to the surface, wailing about a dead woman in the water, other swimmers looked on, perplexed. My older brother tried to console me and swore there were nothing but coins.
He was correct—not until a week later would a woman drown in that pool, and sink to the bottom of the foggy water while swimmers unwittingly raced laps above her.
***
The next time I saw was when I threw a tantrum over my grandmother’s armchair. It smelled so bad I grabbed my nose and exclaimed, “Ewwww!”
My parents scolded me for my rudeness. Grandma occasionally struggled with incontinence, so for her chair to stink was, they assumed, the result of an accident. They thought I was exaggerating to make fun of her, but in the sweltering summer, the smell was truly unbearable—like rotting meat and diarrhea and cheap perfume all churned together. I threw such a fit we left, though Grandma insisted on hugging me despite my being an “awful brat.” Her skin was wrinkled, papery-thin and soft as silk, but despite the uncomfortable warmth of her apartment, her embrace was ice cold.
Less than a week later the call came. My grandmother had been found after a neighbor’s complaint about the smell…
She’d died in her chair.
***
But when the seeing really clicked was in my tween years, two separate incidents. The first was after a classmate of my brother’s pulled up in a car reeking of burnt meat, the interior charred and black. He stepped out of the car seeming not to notice that behind him, another version of him remained belted into the front seat, unrecognizable through the char beyond the glint of a gold chain melted into his neck. I burst into hysterical tears and screamed at my brother not to let him drive. The classmate laughed and called me a weirdo.
He crashed later that week.
The second incident began at a school function, where my brother chaperoned me. A man pulled up in the school drop-off zone—he was one of the more popular teachers, famous for his yearly pizza parties. In the car with him were two young kids. I can’t remember their names, just that the littlest boy was giggling and clinging to a toy T-rex when he hopped out. My brother and I were asked to help carry the party supplies and drinks from the teacher’s car. But the moment I opened the passenger door to grab a box, the reek of fetid pond water made my stomach lurch. I staggered back, clapping a hand to my nose and mouth.
“Hey! Everything all right?” the teacher asked.
My brother, no doubt remembering what happened to his classmate weeks earlier, took me aside.
“C-c-c-c-cold!” I burst to him. “D-dark! The smell! Like the rot in the bottom of a lake…”
While I wrung my hands and sniffled, my brother watched the two young kids follow the teacher into the school. He shook my shoulder and said, “Hey—hey, we’re going to save them.”
“How? No one ever believes me!”
“I believe you, Hope. Hey…” He gave me a squeeze and looked in my eyes. “‘Hope’ is the thing with feathers…”
What a dork. That line was from Emily Dickinson—my brother’s favorite quote for me for when I was upset. It was corny, but encouraged me.
A few minutes later, we were careening along backwoods roads in the teacher’s car. To this day, I don’t know how my brother got the keys. His plan was we’d stow the car in a garage for a couple weeks, long enough to outlast the vision, since my predictions always came true within about six days. But it hadn’t occurred to either of us how being inside the car would affect me. The damp and rot washed over my skin. COLD. Every hair on my body stood erect, floating as if underwater. I couldn’t breathe… gagging on the fetid water, I rolled down my window. Raindrops from outside pelted my face, and something… something clicked. A sudden terrible question. When I’d peered into the darkened interior, I hadn’t been able to see… who was inside the car?
“Hey,” my brother said, apparently struck by the same thought. “You’re not foreseeing our deaths, are you?”
I don’t know if it was fate that caused us to fishtail just as he spoke. But also he might have hit something, because there was a bump. All I know is suddenly we were flying, off the road and over the side toward a lake, and then plunging, and I snatched for his hand as the impact slammed us forward into the dashboard. Then the water wasn’t just in my mind. It was real. It was pouring in through the car window.
I fought, flailing. Unbuckled. Floundered through the half-open window. Luckily I was still small enough to get through, swimming up and breaking the surface.
“Cory!” I screamed. “CORY!!!”
But I knew already that my brother wasn’t coming up—his hand had been cold when I’d touched it.
***
Naturally, his death feels like my fault. Oh, in kinder moments I remember that I was a child, and try to forgive myself for letting him get behind that wheel. But for a time, I was driven by the fierce need to atone. I sought desperately to save even one life… ANY life. I’d see a body swaying from a beam in a construction site. Legs dangling from a trunk in the car on the highway ahead of me. A suitcase on sale in a luggage store, dripping blood. Every time I tried to prevent the death… only to fail or worse, cause it. Each loss drove home more deeply my shame, my failure… until eventually…
I gave up.
I don’t try to prevent the deaths anymore. These days I catch a whiff of that familiar sickly putrid scent, and I leave. I avoid human touch, especially handshakes.
I’ve truly become wallpaper. Able to see. Powerless to prevent.
My name, incidentally, is Cassandra… I changed it because I could no longer bear my birth name. If “Hope” is the thing with feathers, I was an angel of death, harbinger of doom to my brother and others. So instead I call myself after the Greek priestess doomed to foresee the future but never to be believed… unable to prevent even one single tragedy.
***
But let’s get back to the cruise. The missing passengers. The eyeballs in the thermos—oh, those grisly details! Mind you, once you know you can’t un-know, no matter how much you drink, or smoke, or however you drown your despair. Speaking of drowning, a month ago today, I hit the big 4-O. I celebrated my four decades of life by doing the one thing I’ve done consistently since I was old enough—drinking away my failures. Every icy grip. Every unheeded warning. And especially the times I’ve well and truly fucked up. Oh yes. Those are the ones that call for some hard forgetting.
I was on my second or seventh drink at my favorite bar when a voice exclaimed, “’Evening, friend!”
A woman with shimmering purple eyeliner and matching purple hair approached. It was the musician who often played there, Lily Tsuki. To be honest, she was the primary reason I frequented that bar, though we’d hardly spoken beyond my occasional compliments about her playing. She slid into the seat next to mine and clinked my glass.
“Roy at the bar told me it’s your fortieth. I see you in here once a week, always tipping well and drinking like you’re trying to drown yourself. Someone did something kind for me recently, so I’m trying to pass it on…” She fished a hand into her pocket, and to my surprise produced a gift card for a cruise. I didn’t catch all of her story in the noisy bar, but apparently, one of her admirers was very rich, always offering her gifts verging on inappropriate. After finding out she’d be playing on the Azure Seastar, said admirer sent her the card so she could spoil herself on the cruise. She didn’t feel comfortable accepting, so she gifted it to me. “… There’s enough on there to cover your fare. Don’t thank me—thank you, I needed to get rid of it. Enjoy your fortieth, friend!”
As she handed me the card, her fingers brushed mine.
Warm. Alive.
I mumbled my thanks, cheeks warm. Why? Because she chose me? Blushes! I’m an idiot.
Still, I was glowing, and not just because I was tipsy. Why not? I thought. Why not treat myself, this once? The Azure Seastar… it sounded like a dream. I’d go see Lily Tsuki play at the piano bar against the backdrop of a glimmering ocean. I’d drink under the stars. Get a tan. Get my sea legs! And every hand would be warm and every breath would taste of the summer breeze!
***
Nine decks (eleven including the crew-only levels). Over a thousand people. Pool, bars, restaurants, lounges, cafés, spa, cabaret—the Seastar truly was the Ritz Carlton on the water! I was absolutely giddy! Of course before the luxury came the wait—just like the airport, parking, luggage, ticketing, security. It was as I neared the entrance for ticketing, enjoying the summer breeze, that I caught traces of a sour odor… a whiff of decay… so faint beneath the car exhaust and the smell of the saltwater that I might have missed it, were I not so attuned to death. At port, it was likely some unfortunate animal packed into a shipping crate and decomposing. I’d even read horror stories of people, trafficked in sealed shipping containers and asphyxiating. That faint whiff made my insides curdle.
Then I was inside the air conditioned terminal, packed with passengers—and inhaling nothing but the blessed AC.
The check in was surprisingly quick. I followed the embarkation signs up the escalator to the terminal’s upper level, through the double glass doors, greeted on my right by printed images of pool decks and steaks and wine glasses. On my left, through the enormous paned wall of glass, the Seastar herself loomed. My God, she was enormous!
So many decks! So many balconies!
Then I squinted a little closer. What was that speck? A tiny figure, draped on a railing?
My heart dropped to my toes.
Something was horribly wrong.
The figure, small against the massive width of the ship… had no face. Only a torso and most of its arms. It had been decapitated, and dried blood spattered the rail.
My footsteps slowed. I pressed against the glass, eyes rapidly roving the rest of the ship. Was it just one…? One incidence of violence, or…
Perhaps I wasn’t seeing correctly. It was a stunt. A practical joke. A mannequin. I needed to get closer. I hurried along the terminal, joining the line out to the gangplank.
The bowl of the sky had turned deep purple, the sun lowering toward the horizon, and in the Seastar’s deep shadow, the temperature dropped. A sudden chill gripped me as I trotted out onto the gangplank. I sniffed. Sniffed again, more deeply.
Rot.
The same putrid odor I’d caught outside. A passenger ahead of me noticed me grabbing my nose, and remarked, “Not used to that ocean smell?” I did not respond, because now that I was close enough to see the ship more clearly, I noticed… cracked glass… broken panes in the sliding glass doors of the cabins… no! I gasped, sinking to my knees, and the passenger kindly leaned to help me up. As her hand seized mine—it was cold.
I jerked back so fast I actually collapsed into the passengers behind us—a mother and her daughter.
“Oh!” exclaimed the mother.
My hand brushed the daughter’s bare arm. Cold.
“Are you okay?” asked the daughter, a child of about twelve.
I crawled back from her, and another person, an elderly gentleman, leaned down to help me up, his hand on my elbow. Cold!
“Miss?” he asked. “Miss—” But I bolted, barely hearing their cries as I launched myself back toward the terminal. No no no no no no no no—my eyes watered and my belly bunched into knots and my heart lurched into my throat and oh God oh God—the ship! The whole. Entire. Ship. It was… dark… windows broken… Not a single light shining in the interior, and spatters of blood here and there visible on its decks and balconies… But worst of all was the smell. I hadn’t even entered the ship yet and already I knew, knew, in the way only I can know, that the smell wasn’t just one body or two. Not if I could detect it all the way out on the gangplank. All the way at the entrance to the terminal. For the whiff of putrefaction to have spread so far, the source was something massive. A colossal pile of decomposing bodies like a herd of dead elephants.
That ship… no one on that ship was going to make it back…
As I entered the terminal with its blessed filtered air and the windows between me and the ship, I turned and looked at the line stretching behind me. Passengers laughing. Chatting. Dressed in their finest. Flirting. Teasing. Buzzing with excitement. Old and young couples. Children.
Everyone on this ship is going to die…
... and I’m the only one who knows…
submitted by lets-split-up to nosleep [link] [comments]
The fates of over a thousand passengers and crew remain unknown, with only a handful recovered from a lifeboat, days after the Seastar herself vanished. But the coast guard’s only statement on the lifeboat’s recovery was that “the passengers did not survive.” Rumors circulated about a “thermos full of eyeballs” and a “passenger whose mouth was stuffed full of severed fingers”—but these details have been denounced as lies, sensationalizing and capitalizing on a tragedy.
The official cause of the Seastar’s disappearance is a rogue wave. No survivors. No witnesses.
Well… one witness…
… but perhaps I shouldn’t tell. Better for the world if that ship stay lost forever!
The families of the missing, however, deserve the truth… which is why I am posting.
But first, a warning—the gruesome snippets I recounted above barely scratch the surface of the horror I am about to share, some of which I took part in. I wake screaming every night. I sleep with the lights on. I never enter darkened hallways or stairwells. And I do not ever shake hands. Although I’ve always had some quirks (the handshake one is an old habit), most of these are fresh, a consequence of my time aboard that doomed cruise ship. I do not intend to gloss over any details, but rather to give a complete accounting, including of my own involvement… so be forewarned.
And understand that my story is one of unimaginable horror.
***
To explain what really happened aboard the Seastar, I need to first tell a little about myself. Sorry, I know I’m like a bit of decorative wallpaper—just sort of there. But I see things.
It all started when I was very young (I do promise this is relevant). I didn’t want to swim in the community pool with my brother because the water was cloudy, hiding a shadowy figure in the deep end. I distinctly remember standing at the pool’s edge, crying inconsolably while my father urged, “Go on, jump in!”
My brother set the example, diving down to the bottom of the foggy water. When he came up, a silver dollar glinted in his fingers, which he dropped back into the pool before I could snatch it. “Oops! Guess you gotta dive for it!” He laughed, the sun shimmering off his sunburned shoulders. “Come on, there’s quarters down here, too!”
Diving for coins was a game we often played, so I plunged in after him, kicking my way down with my eyes squeezed shut. When my hands grazed the rough cement bottom, I patted around.
Silky hair tangled around my fingers like seaweed.
I forced my eyes open against the stinging chlorine—and shrieked.
Wide, empty eyes stared back at me from a bloated face.
When I shot to the surface, wailing about a dead woman in the water, other swimmers looked on, perplexed. My older brother tried to console me and swore there were nothing but coins.
He was correct—not until a week later would a woman drown in that pool, and sink to the bottom of the foggy water while swimmers unwittingly raced laps above her.
***
The next time I saw was when I threw a tantrum over my grandmother’s armchair. It smelled so bad I grabbed my nose and exclaimed, “Ewwww!”
My parents scolded me for my rudeness. Grandma occasionally struggled with incontinence, so for her chair to stink was, they assumed, the result of an accident. They thought I was exaggerating to make fun of her, but in the sweltering summer, the smell was truly unbearable—like rotting meat and diarrhea and cheap perfume all churned together. I threw such a fit we left, though Grandma insisted on hugging me despite my being an “awful brat.” Her skin was wrinkled, papery-thin and soft as silk, but despite the uncomfortable warmth of her apartment, her embrace was ice cold.
Less than a week later the call came. My grandmother had been found after a neighbor’s complaint about the smell…
She’d died in her chair.
***
But when the seeing really clicked was in my tween years, two separate incidents. The first was after a classmate of my brother’s pulled up in a car reeking of burnt meat, the interior charred and black. He stepped out of the car seeming not to notice that behind him, another version of him remained belted into the front seat, unrecognizable through the char beyond the glint of a gold chain melted into his neck. I burst into hysterical tears and screamed at my brother not to let him drive. The classmate laughed and called me a weirdo.
He crashed later that week.
The second incident began at a school function, where my brother chaperoned me. A man pulled up in the school drop-off zone—he was one of the more popular teachers, famous for his yearly pizza parties. In the car with him were two young kids. I can’t remember their names, just that the littlest boy was giggling and clinging to a toy T-rex when he hopped out. My brother and I were asked to help carry the party supplies and drinks from the teacher’s car. But the moment I opened the passenger door to grab a box, the reek of fetid pond water made my stomach lurch. I staggered back, clapping a hand to my nose and mouth.
“Hey! Everything all right?” the teacher asked.
My brother, no doubt remembering what happened to his classmate weeks earlier, took me aside.
“C-c-c-c-cold!” I burst to him. “D-dark! The smell! Like the rot in the bottom of a lake…”
While I wrung my hands and sniffled, my brother watched the two young kids follow the teacher into the school. He shook my shoulder and said, “Hey—hey, we’re going to save them.”
“How? No one ever believes me!”
“I believe you, Hope. Hey…” He gave me a squeeze and looked in my eyes. “‘Hope’ is the thing with feathers…”
What a dork. That line was from Emily Dickinson—my brother’s favorite quote for me for when I was upset. It was corny, but encouraged me.
A few minutes later, we were careening along backwoods roads in the teacher’s car. To this day, I don’t know how my brother got the keys. His plan was we’d stow the car in a garage for a couple weeks, long enough to outlast the vision, since my predictions always came true within about six days. But it hadn’t occurred to either of us how being inside the car would affect me. The damp and rot washed over my skin. COLD. Every hair on my body stood erect, floating as if underwater. I couldn’t breathe… gagging on the fetid water, I rolled down my window. Raindrops from outside pelted my face, and something… something clicked. A sudden terrible question. When I’d peered into the darkened interior, I hadn’t been able to see… who was inside the car?
“Hey,” my brother said, apparently struck by the same thought. “You’re not foreseeing our deaths, are you?”
I don’t know if it was fate that caused us to fishtail just as he spoke. But also he might have hit something, because there was a bump. All I know is suddenly we were flying, off the road and over the side toward a lake, and then plunging, and I snatched for his hand as the impact slammed us forward into the dashboard. Then the water wasn’t just in my mind. It was real. It was pouring in through the car window.
I fought, flailing. Unbuckled. Floundered through the half-open window. Luckily I was still small enough to get through, swimming up and breaking the surface.
“Cory!” I screamed. “CORY!!!”
But I knew already that my brother wasn’t coming up—his hand had been cold when I’d touched it.
***
Naturally, his death feels like my fault. Oh, in kinder moments I remember that I was a child, and try to forgive myself for letting him get behind that wheel. But for a time, I was driven by the fierce need to atone. I sought desperately to save even one life… ANY life. I’d see a body swaying from a beam in a construction site. Legs dangling from a trunk in the car on the highway ahead of me. A suitcase on sale in a luggage store, dripping blood. Every time I tried to prevent the death… only to fail or worse, cause it. Each loss drove home more deeply my shame, my failure… until eventually…
I gave up.
I don’t try to prevent the deaths anymore. These days I catch a whiff of that familiar sickly putrid scent, and I leave. I avoid human touch, especially handshakes.
I’ve truly become wallpaper. Able to see. Powerless to prevent.
My name, incidentally, is Cassandra… I changed it because I could no longer bear my birth name. If “Hope” is the thing with feathers, I was an angel of death, harbinger of doom to my brother and others. So instead I call myself after the Greek priestess doomed to foresee the future but never to be believed… unable to prevent even one single tragedy.
***
But let’s get back to the cruise. The missing passengers. The eyeballs in the thermos—oh, those grisly details! Mind you, once you know you can’t un-know, no matter how much you drink, or smoke, or however you drown your despair. Speaking of drowning, a month ago today, I hit the big 4-O. I celebrated my four decades of life by doing the one thing I’ve done consistently since I was old enough—drinking away my failures. Every icy grip. Every unheeded warning. And especially the times I’ve well and truly fucked up. Oh yes. Those are the ones that call for some hard forgetting.
I was on my second or seventh drink at my favorite bar when a voice exclaimed, “’Evening, friend!”
A woman with shimmering purple eyeliner and matching purple hair approached. It was the musician who often played there, Lily Tsuki. To be honest, she was the primary reason I frequented that bar, though we’d hardly spoken beyond my occasional compliments about her playing. She slid into the seat next to mine and clinked my glass.
“Roy at the bar told me it’s your fortieth. I see you in here once a week, always tipping well and drinking like you’re trying to drown yourself. Someone did something kind for me recently, so I’m trying to pass it on…” She fished a hand into her pocket, and to my surprise produced a gift card for a cruise. I didn’t catch all of her story in the noisy bar, but apparently, one of her admirers was very rich, always offering her gifts verging on inappropriate. After finding out she’d be playing on the Azure Seastar, said admirer sent her the card so she could spoil herself on the cruise. She didn’t feel comfortable accepting, so she gifted it to me. “… There’s enough on there to cover your fare. Don’t thank me—thank you, I needed to get rid of it. Enjoy your fortieth, friend!”
As she handed me the card, her fingers brushed mine.
Warm. Alive.
I mumbled my thanks, cheeks warm. Why? Because she chose me? Blushes! I’m an idiot.
Still, I was glowing, and not just because I was tipsy. Why not? I thought. Why not treat myself, this once? The Azure Seastar… it sounded like a dream. I’d go see Lily Tsuki play at the piano bar against the backdrop of a glimmering ocean. I’d drink under the stars. Get a tan. Get my sea legs! And every hand would be warm and every breath would taste of the summer breeze!
***
Nine decks (eleven including the crew-only levels). Over a thousand people. Pool, bars, restaurants, lounges, cafés, spa, cabaret—the Seastar truly was the Ritz Carlton on the water! I was absolutely giddy! Of course before the luxury came the wait—just like the airport, parking, luggage, ticketing, security. It was as I neared the entrance for ticketing, enjoying the summer breeze, that I caught traces of a sour odor… a whiff of decay… so faint beneath the car exhaust and the smell of the saltwater that I might have missed it, were I not so attuned to death. At port, it was likely some unfortunate animal packed into a shipping crate and decomposing. I’d even read horror stories of people, trafficked in sealed shipping containers and asphyxiating. That faint whiff made my insides curdle.
Then I was inside the air conditioned terminal, packed with passengers—and inhaling nothing but the blessed AC.
The check in was surprisingly quick. I followed the embarkation signs up the escalator to the terminal’s upper level, through the double glass doors, greeted on my right by printed images of pool decks and steaks and wine glasses. On my left, through the enormous paned wall of glass, the Seastar herself loomed. My God, she was enormous!
So many decks! So many balconies!
Then I squinted a little closer. What was that speck? A tiny figure, draped on a railing?
My heart dropped to my toes.
Something was horribly wrong.
The figure, small against the massive width of the ship… had no face. Only a torso and most of its arms. It had been decapitated, and dried blood spattered the rail.
My footsteps slowed. I pressed against the glass, eyes rapidly roving the rest of the ship. Was it just one…? One incidence of violence, or…
Perhaps I wasn’t seeing correctly. It was a stunt. A practical joke. A mannequin. I needed to get closer. I hurried along the terminal, joining the line out to the gangplank.
The bowl of the sky had turned deep purple, the sun lowering toward the horizon, and in the Seastar’s deep shadow, the temperature dropped. A sudden chill gripped me as I trotted out onto the gangplank. I sniffed. Sniffed again, more deeply.
Rot.
The same putrid odor I’d caught outside. A passenger ahead of me noticed me grabbing my nose, and remarked, “Not used to that ocean smell?” I did not respond, because now that I was close enough to see the ship more clearly, I noticed… cracked glass… broken panes in the sliding glass doors of the cabins… no! I gasped, sinking to my knees, and the passenger kindly leaned to help me up. As her hand seized mine—it was cold.
I jerked back so fast I actually collapsed into the passengers behind us—a mother and her daughter.
“Oh!” exclaimed the mother.
My hand brushed the daughter’s bare arm. Cold.
“Are you okay?” asked the daughter, a child of about twelve.
I crawled back from her, and another person, an elderly gentleman, leaned down to help me up, his hand on my elbow. Cold!
“Miss?” he asked. “Miss—” But I bolted, barely hearing their cries as I launched myself back toward the terminal. No no no no no no no no—my eyes watered and my belly bunched into knots and my heart lurched into my throat and oh God oh God—the ship! The whole. Entire. Ship. It was… dark… windows broken… Not a single light shining in the interior, and spatters of blood here and there visible on its decks and balconies… But worst of all was the smell. I hadn’t even entered the ship yet and already I knew, knew, in the way only I can know, that the smell wasn’t just one body or two. Not if I could detect it all the way out on the gangplank. All the way at the entrance to the terminal. For the whiff of putrefaction to have spread so far, the source was something massive. A colossal pile of decomposing bodies like a herd of dead elephants.
That ship… no one on that ship was going to make it back…
As I entered the terminal with its blessed filtered air and the windows between me and the ship, I turned and looked at the line stretching behind me. Passengers laughing. Chatting. Dressed in their finest. Flirting. Teasing. Buzzing with excitement. Old and young couples. Children.
Everyone on this ship is going to die…
... and I’m the only one who knows…
2023.06.04 19:38 Kimber80 [ESPN Stats & Info] Moments ago, Florida's Jac Caglianone became the 3rd player in SEC history to hit 30 homers in a season, joining LSU's Brandon Larson and Brad Cresse. His 3-run "Jac" moved him into a tie with Charlotte's Cam Fisher for the Division I lead with 30 HR this season.
![[ESPN Stats & Info] Moments ago, Florida's Jac Caglianone became the 3rd player in SEC history to hit 30 homers in a season, joining LSU's Brandon Larson and Brad Cresse. His 3-run](https://external-preview.redd.it/6mlROYXM-GP7CXktbZPM8DJBO9wPe0PdVikdB3g5RrM.jpg?width=108&crop=smart&auto=webp&s=ba52560dd743da0e31ea9ca48e5fab7a247641ff "[ESPN Stats & Info] Moments ago, Florida's Jac Caglianone became the 3rd player in SEC history to hit 30 homers in a season, joining LSU's Brandon Larson and Brad Cresse. His 3-run") | submitted by Kimber80 to baseball [link] [comments] |
2023.06.04 19:08 crumblecookieseater I’m moving , any suggestions?
Hi . I am an LA native. Female . 24. I moved away 6 years ago after I graduated high school. Did florida , South Carolina, nashville , and Atlanta . I’m moving back because I’m tired of the south although I have nothing against it whatsoever. I really just miss the west coast right now. This will be my first time experiencing Los Angeles as an adult. I’m mentally preparing myself for the prices again that’s for sure 🫠🫠.I didn’t really do much when I lived out there cause I had strict parents that hardly ever let me do anything lol. Now that I’m going back as an adult, how can I integrate back into Los Angeles? Where can I meet new friends ? I thought about downloading bumble BFF, but that was a bust down here in the south too and it seems like the girls just wanted more instagram followers instead of hanging out 😒, so I imagine Los Angeles will be even more difficult. Basically I feel like I’m starting all over again. I’m a native but it all feels brand new Any suggestions ? Restaurants , activities, ways to meet new people ? I have CRIPPLING social anxiety but I will try a little more to put myself out there this time around .
submitted by crumblecookieseater to AskLosAngeles [link] [comments]
2023.06.04 19:01 Ok_Charity_7922 Dinalley (based on Pizzalley in St. Augustine, FL)
 | A long, long time ago. I used to work at this nifty mini restaurant. I thought I would Sim it. I built it on the 40x20 lot in Newcrest. The actual restaurant had an apartment above it, which I'm going to try an alternate build with one included. submitted by Ok_Charity_7922 to Sims4 [link] [comments] https://preview.redd.it/8twbqpx8814b1.png?width=1302&format=png&auto=webp&s=9c20c0a3ca6f27b49a991a7420744ac40756d962 I reorganized the interior a little bit to make it more Sims functional. The wall by the booths is actually covered in mirrors; though as I post the photo it doesn't seem to look like it very much. The actual table tree was, I think, an oak; but something like that essentially renders the back non-functional. Given we're in Florida I used palm trees :) |