Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Good Luck Surviving Cobb’s (Crash) Landing
200 North Indian River Dr.
Fort Pierce, FL
If you haven’t figured it out by now, Suit757 is pretty low maintenance.
Give me vacant bar stool, the game on the flat screen, something interesting to eat -- and don’t let my beer glass reach empty.
I mean, in my 140 reviews here, how many times have you seen me bitch about the service? Pretty much never.
But the bald headed, heavily tattooed idiot who works the outdoor tiki bar at Cobb’s Landing in Fort Pierce, Florida got on my last nerve.
He must have been hired off the reject list of the TSA, DMV or United Airlines Customer Service. Maybe all three.
Because I’ve seen TSA agents fondle non-terrorist testicles more enthusiastically than this guy brought me my RastafaRye Ale and a menu.
Twenty minutes later, I had to practically grab him by the throat to get him to finally take my order.
Since I had so much idle time, I spent it admiring the rather eclectic crowd enjoying the warm March evening gathered around the bar at the Fort Pierce City Marina.
For a once hard-scrabble, gritty, citrus-exporting waterfront, the City Marina in Fort Piece has been transformed into a typical public-private partnership of mediocrity after Hurricane Jeanne wiped the place out in 2005.
It’s amazing what $19 million in taxpayer money and corrupt Congressional earmarks can do.
But like any other government subsidized enterprise, Cobb’s Landing comes up way short.
I ordered the blackened grouper sandwich. Or so I thought.
Blackened normally implies that the filet of fish is seared with a generous application of spices.
But the fish I was served had no seasoning at all.
And if that scrawny piece of protein was grouper, then Suit757 is a world famous underwear model.
I’ve been suspicious of Florida’s ubiquitous “Grouper Sandwiches” ever since the Daytona Beach News Journal did an investigative DNA study of local fish camps and discovered that 40% of the restaurants in that part of the state served something other than the advertised grouper.
Every sunburned Yankee who comes to Florida demands grouper. Never mind that snapper, red fish, striper and wahoo are just as tasty.
The tourists expect grouper.
As a result, you can’t buy a filet of grouper straight off the boat for less than $16 per pound. That’s double the price a fillet mignon.
No wonder half the waterfront restaurants in the Sunshine State slip something other than grouper into their “Grouper Sandwiches.”
But Suit757 doesn’t take too kindly to being lied to.
Fortunately, one of the female bartenders noticed my empty beer glass after some interminable amount of time passed, and offered me another beer.
I’d probably still be sitting there right now if she hadn’t offered to bring me my tab.
Chrome dome was too busy admiring his tattoos and the Miami Heat game on the TV to be bothered with waiting on any paying customers like me.
I mean, does this guy work for tips or what?
There are always strings attached to all those earmarks and millions in taxpayer subsidies.
You know. Half of the workers hired for this government enterprise must be on welfare. Or all the workers must be union.
Or you must hire a certain quota of bald guys with at least 30% of their bodies tattooed.
And if all these mandates make turning a profit impossible, the taxpayers will subsidize the losses.
So just consider this review to be yet another Suit757 rule to live by.
Just like, “Don’t eat at chain restaurants.”
“Don’t order the food at an Irish Pub.”
“Don’t get behind the guy with the turban in the TSA line.”
Suit757 rule #83: “Only eat at places subject to the consequences of the free market.”
Rating: Clean Grill with Shirt.