Bob W wanted to go to Glacier Brewhouse for lunch
(it's near the Sheraton, where he was depositing
Lilli and me), and we were told that there would
be an over half-hour wait, not too great, so we
said, may we sit at the bar, to which the answer
was affirmative, so we went there only to find
not only were there not three seats together,
there was only one seat period, that across from
our friend Andrea, whose boyfriend had left her in
the lurch. I stood there and chatted for a while,
but Bob said that he had had good luck at a place
almost right across the street, Solstice in the
Westmark Hotel. It looks like a hotel coffee shop.
I imagine that 90% of its business is breakfast.

We were seated towards the front in a comfy booth
and promptly handed menus and greeted by our waiter
Eric, who seemed eager enough to please, which might
have been, but who knows.

The joint was pretty dead - only one couple preceding
us, and there were always several front of house
people visible.

Nonetheless.

I ordered an Alaskan amber and a glass of Sutter Home
Merlot for Lilli (there were a couple other reds
available, but they were more expensive and in my
opinion worse). And we waited.

After 15 or so, Lilli noticed that there appeared a
beer and a glass of wine off in back, where they sat
unnoticed for another 10 or 15, during which time
Eric miraculously showed up and took our orders,
slowly, meticulously, repeating each item with care.
We asked for our drinks. He said they were coming.
Eventually they did, each miraculously still at an
acceptable temperature.

The food - well, some familiar looking dishes appeared
at the kitchen heat lamp in due time but sat for
another 10 or 15, during which time Eric periodically
cast a longing glance and the rest of the staff, which
came and went without helping or anything.

We noticed at the half hour mark that the other
couple's lunch hadn't come out either.

In retrospect, it appears that Eric (black) was the
only person doing anything at all, while the rest of
the staff (varying shades of not black) just stood there.
It also appears that Eric had been forbidden from doing
anything without consulting someone. The situation
looked pretty toxic, and I'm lucky not to be hungry
often in Anchorage.

When it came out, the fare was pretty decent, almost
worth the wait.

The other table's stuff came out just before ours.
We noted also that the shrimp cocktail appetizer
appeared after the main courses.

Bob's Cobb salad looked like the dog's dinner and as
if it had been under a heat lamp. Actually, it had not
suffered that fate, only looked that way. When he mixed
it up to his liking, it looked worse, except the
paleness of the chicken and of the lettuce were
somewhat muted (the kitchen would have done well to
have saved some of the outer leaves of the lettuce for
color at least). He said that his food, despite its
appearance, actually tasted good.

Lilli had ordered her cheeseburger rare, and as she
noticed it under the holding lamp, I predicted that even
if it had once been rare, it never would be again. It
was a puck when she got it, and the cheese had melted
into a pile of ooze on the plate. Nonetheless, she
also pronounced it good.

My cod and chips was, in a word, excellent. It had not
suffered badly from its sunbath, and the fish, by now a
bit overdone, was still juicy and quite delicious; the
fries were alo a bit overdone, but I like them that way.

Eric, who appeared to be the only staffer not on drugs,
was polite and agreeable throughout, though quite
bewildered by the entire experience. As were we.

I hesitated to give this crowd of morons my credit card
but decided to do so anyway.
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