LAS VEGAS, Nevada (MDM) — Should you ever find yourself forced to choose between eating at the Public House or doing a full-gainer freegan dive into a Dumpster behind the Luxor, I recommend going for the garbage.
The Bicycle Retailer crew had a prix fixe deal going on — at the Public House, not the Dumpster — and you’d think that would have greased the culinary wheels of progress somewhat, but no.
Getting “served” required more than two hours, during which time several of my colleagues’ beverage orders went walkabout, and as for what finally arrived at the table, I’m going to go out on a limb here and call it “food,” if only because it came on a plate.
The racket was abominable, and holding a conversation was impossible, which is kind of a pisser when you have two-plus hours to kill waiting for the grub. So we all shouted at those closest to us — mostly “What?” — and as a consequence this morning I feel like I’ve been gargling with broken glass.
Hey, there could have been anything in whatever that was on my plate. The foundation of a first-rate weight-loss program, is dinner at the Public House.
But, hey, First World Problems, am I right? It’s a brand-new day, I’ve had a couple $5 cups of coffee, and I didn’t have to wait two hours for them, either. Off to the show.
Next: Day one of Interbike.
Mad Blog Media 
Get off the Strip to eat! Cheaper and better. Orig. Sunrise Cafe on 8975 S Eastern. Not real close, but good food and quick service.
Thanks, Charley. Not much time to leave the hotel, much less the Strip, but I’ll see if I can grab some eats there on the way out of town.
The Egg and I on Sahara used to be good, too. I remember them having something of a bicycle fetish, and when I came to the show with BRAIN I used to take the occasional meal there.
Hey, at least some asshat didn’t try to run you down this morning. Just finished filing a report against the driver of a government vehicle here in Bomb Town.
What are you doing to make the nice motorists angry now, K? They’re ordinarily so cuddly in New Mexico. Maybe not.
Taking a narrow lane. Fuckin’ A, its a mortal sin.
As the guy said when he had to wait for me to ride through a narrow, 50 foot section of road, “what do you expect me to do, slow down?”
Khal, watch out for those entitled road rage assholes. Might want to have a jersey pocket full of caltrops so they can’t catch you in your sprint escape.
Maybe that is why to person with the room service tray neeed a bottle of vodkas of wash the “food” down. That or disinfect it.
Kinda like the guy in the Silverado here who leaned on his horn for a whole block. I’d moved to the left of the lane because of potholes. At the stop sign, I kid you not, he rolled down his window tapped the top of his wheel with a forefinger and announced “I pay taxes.”
To which I replied with mock surprise “You do? So do I.” A few lame curses and a cloud of oxygenated hydrocarbons and he was gone.
There is a little buzz on the inntertubes about the socks you got in your Interbike welcome bag. Do you think they will pass out some more of this swag at the panel discussion about what women want from the cycling industry?
Was Dan Mann there. Met him last week.