Two memorable postscripts to OSCON 2008.
I got to Portland’s Union Station about 1 1/4 hours before I had to board. Joe said its restaurant was decent, so I opted to allow some time to eat lunch there.
But… The restaurant’s name is Wilf’s Restaurant. Good food, decent prices, nice atmosphere. No complaints. But that has got to be one of the most unfortunate names possible in the modern world. When I saw “Wilf’s,” I thought of, eh, another well-known acronym. My mind started to wander in unexpected directions. “Waitresses I’d like to…?” “Waiters I’d like to…?” “Water glasses I’d like to…?” Focus, John, focus! It’s just a club sandwich with potato salad on the side, dammit!
Have sympathy for the poor owner. That was a fine name for a restaurant — until American Pie came out in 1999.
On a more normal note, my waiter turned out to be a Perl/MySQL hacker, working there between software gigs. Wade Burgett, if you’re reading this, ROCK on!