Archive for the ‘STL: St. Louis Hills’ Category


Let’s get our fish on.

First of all, this happened on Friday the 1st and then my house was beset by germ warfare that someone in my daughter’s daycare dropped on us and here I have been abiding by the Geneva Convention my whole life! So, needless to say, I was very sick on this past Friday. Instead of tasty fried fish, I was “enjoying” beef broth.”

Now, let’s get to the fish story. We had chosen to head over to the St. Louis Spanish Society for this week’s fish fry. I had an errand to run and I ended up at the place well before anyone else had arrived. I walked to the back and fantasies of speaking Spanish during my fish fry ran through my head. Apologizing for speaking a different dialect, oh the fun I’d have.


Oh yes it is that time.

Well, it was the second Friday of Lent and my family and I were ready to eat another big steaming plate of fried fish. With out of town guests, I was told to make sure I picked a good one…so I decided this was a good weekend to revisit the scene of epic failure last year…
St. Gabes…

This time, like last time, we all were arriving in separate cars, but I wasn’t tasked in finding the proper line…this was a good thing. As we arrived, we noticed that we were waiting outside the door…in the playround of the school. Oh well…I then had to run back to the car to get my wife’s hoody…she didn’t want to be cold and I really couldn’t blame her for that and she’s been a trooper with the fish frys and my insanity…I feel for my daughter. There was a very long line, I seemed to recall last year that the fish was pretty good as well. We another obstacle th is time…: our stroller, so going up and down all those steps with baby girl in it  wasn’t going to be all that easy, but we made due.


So here we go.  Here is the story of my epic failure on the first Fish Fryday.

Our plan was to go to St. Gabriel’s at 4711 Tamm Ave.  I put the address into my GPS. (Which is my BlackBerry.)  Now, after going to Pat’s Bar & Grill on Tamm Ave in Dogtown, I really think I know where I am going.  So, as I’m driving down Highway 40 from the office, it tells me to get onto 270 South.  I begin to think that the GPS is off its rocker.  So, I literally look at it and say “No, we’re not doing that.”  At which point, I sail right past the clusterpluck that is Interstate 270, all the while, the GPS is screaming at me.