why they call it the mistake on the lake.
I know, I know. I am sure there are some nice places in Cleveland. I have never actually seen them, but I am sure they exist. Okay, maybe in theory.
I went to Cleveland one time. It happened to be the day after our heater exploded. Okay, it didn’t explode, the pilot light went out, on an incredibly cold night in a Pittsburgh suburb. I am here to tell you, you could practically SEE your breath INSIDE the damn house people! Seriously. It was brutally cold.
Anyhow, after the heater situation was resolved, we left for a jaunt to the lovely, picturesque Cleveland. It was winter, it was brutally cold, and there was some restaurant my father
insisted we needed to experience.
This garden spot was a recreation of a French farmhouse, but wait, there was a gimmick. It was a French farmhouse during World War II. Notice I said DURING, not AFTER. It was full of fake sandbags, bombed out areas, and a mock French waitress. I know she was pretending to be French because she was openly hostile. She may have been hostile because we were literally the only
people in the restaurant. Oh yeah, she had a moustache too.
Anyhow, I ordered a turkey club sandwich. Pretty hard to screw up, right?
The bacon was raw. Raw floppy bacon, turkey, lettuce, mayo and tomato on toast. Triple decker.
And then we drove home.
At least the house was warm when we got home!