We were seated at the table with the sign that declared, “Ignore These People,” that was visible only to the waitstaff. Eventually someone brought us menus. Eventually someone brought us water. Eventually someone took our order: a BLT and iced coffee for my friend, and a composed salad and a lemonade for me. Our waiter disappeared. Whenever he reappeared, he looked in every direction by at our table. Eventually, he stopped by to confirm our orders: one BLT, one Cobb salad, one lemonade and one iced tea. We corrected the 50 percent that he got wrong. He disappeared again.
Sometime later, an iced tea and a lemonade appeared. We traded the tea in for coffee. He disappeared again. He reappeared. We got his attention. “Two minutes!” he declared. And disappeared. The cafe emptied out. Our food didn’t arrive. Our waiter wandered into our range of vision again. “What about two minutes?” we asked. “I’ve just been fired,” our waiter said — and disappeared for good. A waitress came over with our order: one BLT and one Cobb salad. We were too exasperated to complain. If we’d sent the Cobb back in favor of the composed salad, we might still be there.
Through it all, Mitchell London sat across the room from us, chatting on his cell phone, conversing with staff and patrons who stopped by. He had crutches leaning against the wall behind him, so I’m not surprised that he wasn’t patrolling the floor. Bit he did seem curiously disinterested in what was going on. And while I will continue to visit Fairway and even buy something exotic to bring back to Colorado, I am disinterested in ever eating at the cafe again.