Well yesterday I met my sister for lunch at a nice little restaurant in Winter Park called Orchid Thai Cuisine. They serve Thai food. There is another Thai restaurant in Winter Park that has the words in little LED lights on its roof "THAI FOOD" written in all caps. The thing is the bottom of the I doesn't light up so it looks like it says "THAT FOOD" and I always find myself saying "I've always wanted to try that food." But that's a different restaurant for a different blog post.
Orchid was nice. The food tasted good and it's located in a well-to-do neighborhood where people have money to spend and apparently time to waste (as our server made quite evident by his constant dissapearence from our table for 20+ minute increments).
Portion sizes were fair. At least, I ate enough to warrent a desire to take a late afternoon run upon returning home. I probably would have done that anyways, as the conditions were right (light breaze, glorious sunshine, homework requiring my procrastination). I was even feeling motivated enough to make a left out of my housing complex (as opposed to right, which leads to the comic book store not a mile down the road where my desire to run tends to halt all together).
Proceeding along my path I passed the big fenced in empty land with the "No Tresspassing" sign posted on its gate and the abandoned golf course not far down the road. I made it to the bank, a good two and a half miles from home, when I decided that would be a good point to head back. So head back I did- Past the abandoned golf course; past the big fenced in empty land with the "No Tresspassing" sign in its open gate.
Open gate? I usually have no desire to tresspass where I'm not wanted, but I have never seen this gate open before. I had assumed by it's always being shut and locked it was gaurding a government facility or alien crash landing site or a big plot of empty land that someone just felt like closing off from the rest of the world or the villaige from The Villaige. Now was my chance to run down the broken pavement long unkempt by the outside world.
So tresspass I did. I kept running. That way if some cop or military personel were to stop me I could play the stupid jogger card who pays no attention to things like signs and ominous barbed wire fences and they'd send me on my merry way. There were no armed gaurds waiting for me beyond the fence. Just lush greens of an open field surrounded by woodland.
Also, there was a raccoon. In broad daylight. the few of you who have read previous editions of this short lived blog may recall I've had such a run in before.
Proceeding with caution I made it past the critter void of any confrontation. The pavement was becoming more broken up and run down until eventually I was running on a dirt path. I had gone far enough that I could no longer see my street. Then I came upon the vultures. Foul creatures they are. Must have been about sixteen of them, pecking at something, I could not tell what, as the smell of its dead, rotting carcass was too much for me to beat going near. Also some of the vultures were giving me an eerie stare and I figured it best I pass them and continue my exploration elsewhere.
The path continued into some woods. These weren't dark, creepy woods or anything (this isn't that sort of story). It was broad daylight and I could see a town on the other side of the trees. I assumed I could run through that town and find my way back to the SR-434 and then back home. Conveniently there was a bridge over a small stream in the woods. On the far bank I could see an upturned row boat. It was overrun with plants and looked like it hadn't been used in ages. I thought about how today would be a beautiful day for a paddle boat ride, but I wasn't about to turn over that old, hole ridden log.
This is the point at which I realized Daft Punk was no longer keeping my running pace. In fact my phone wasn't playing music at all. Its battery had died. I'm not sure how that had happened as It had charged all the way just before lunch and it usually lasted at least a day before being anywhere near dead. Not a problem, I could be disconnected from the world for another half hour or so.
The town was quaint. Small houses lined the main street. They were cute, though did not show much signs of maintenence in the past few decades. I remember thinking it odd for mid afternoon that not a car drove past. In fact the only automobiles I saw were scattered among a few old driveways showing signs of rust of rust and decay. Some of you know I am not much of a car guy but I would assume these vehicles wouldn't get you very far, if you could start them at all.
I needed to know more about this backwards, middle-of-nowhere town. That's when I saw the little old man sitting on his portch. If there's one thing that I have learned when it comes to learning about local history, look for the old people. They will talk your ear off about the oddest miniscule things regarding the area in question. Things you won't learn from official documentation and history books. And they're old, you know, so they don't have anything better to do.
His front yard had a dog house. 
Looking at it I realized this was the first dog house I had ever seen in person. I had never concidered before the current state of dog houses. They were myths, soon to become legends. Think about it, have you ever seen a dog house? That was rhetorical (I don't really care for the answer). I could barely read the name engraved over its entrance. I could make out the letters "B V R V S." Bevers? Beavers? Burus? Bury us?
I approached the old man.
"Howdy, stranger," He spoke loudly in an old, raspy voice.
"Hello," I said.
"What? Halo? Not on me!" He laughed. Obviously I was going to have to speak loudly and enunciate for the poor old man's outdated ear drums. "What brings you to these parts?"
"I WAS JUST EXPLORING!" I hoped he could hear me, I couldn't speak much louder. "WHERE ARE WE?"
"Exploding? Well it's a wonder you're still in one peice. You kids should be more careful what you play with." Seriouosly, old man? "Well this here's the township of Pluto. Welcome."
I quickly thought about my local Floridia geography. I live in Winter Springs. Near us is Longwood, Winter Park, Sandford, Casselberry, all on the outskirts of Orlando. I never heard of Pluto. "ARE WE NEAR CASSELBERRY?"
The old man looked surprised, "Castle burning? Well I'll be, haven't heard that in some time." What are you talking about?
In the midst of this nonsense filled conversation barking errupted from inside the old man's house. There must have been at least three dogs inside.
"IS THAT... um... BURUS?"
"Brutus?" The old man lit up, "Did HE give you directions? Oh boy, last time he sent someone here it caused quite a commotion!"
Okay, I'll admit, sometimes seeking informations about a town from one of its oldest residents will backfire in the end (unless, of course, your goal is to be more confused than you were prior the encounter).
"Well if you'll excuse me stranger, I better go feed the mutt." The old man stood up.
"SOUNDS LIKE YOU HAVE MORE THAN JUST ONE."
"You have fun, yourself. Hope I don't see you again for some time." That was an odd statement to follow with a smile. He stepped inside his house and he said something that sounded like "Quiet down, Cerberus."
I continued my run, realizing I had been gone for some time and I had a hot date with a German textbook later (homework doesn't do itself (yet)). Retracing my steps I returned to the bridge, passed over it, ran by a caracass that had all of its flesh and meat pecked off of it. Then Daft Punk started playing from my phone. Technology is so weird sometimes.
So, yea, all in all the restaurant was all right. Good food but not the best service.
My Review of the Township of Pluto, FL
∞/10
