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"I am
so proud to be included in this monumental occasion. Thanks to
your honors, and corndogs like crazy."
"Viva
El Popo!"
"The
numbers are looking good!! Hope the projections and growth figure
hold up!"
"May
your second year be filled abundantly with corndogs, and may the
cockroaches be rare."
"Sucking
up by the staff will only earn you roaches – and 3 out of
3 midwesterners say: What the fu** is a pronto pup?"
"Glasses
to glasses
Crust to crust,
When out with
The Füd Court
A bib is a must!"
"Let
the record show: Roberto did NOT smile when he said: "It
was a pleasure to server you tonight!"
"Is
it possible? Miss Daly City envious of our table? Indeed it is.
She tried to out-cheer us, out-toast us, and overwhelm us. But
why?"
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A Füd Court sign atop the Pope's cube and our 17 diners donning
Fud Court bibs brought more attention than you might normally draw
in the Pope Room. The Buca manager stopped by and took away a program
and some magnets, while pandering for extra corn dogs in their original
review. Our waiter wore a bib around to his other tables, perhaps
taking time to verbally promote the site along with the menu items,
which would explain a couple minor lapses in service. In his defense,
that place is insanely busy on a Saturday night. And, as I've said,
each and every guest is acting out.
 Ask
Andy wore many different hats on this night (one of which should
have been – but wasn't – a cheesehead). When not busy
berating the waiter, the manager, and the man from the California
Restaurant Association who dropped off his card in the hopes of
working with us to "help the site," our beloved Cheese Lad found
time to make it his birthday (which is really in July). This brought
on a sloppy kiss from a fellow birthday-haver, a riled-up Australian
or British woman who visited our table no less than five times.
 Judge
Turner went to great lengths to give our revelers fine parting
gifts. Anyone who didn't already have a bib left with one (including,
I believe, Ms. Daly City and her sister, seated in the other room).
And the stat-filled program (click here
for a .pdf version) is sure to provide nostalgic material for
reader-eaters in their golden years. Not to mention the Füd
Court fridge magnets. All told, I believe the final wine bottle
(1.5 liters each) count was between six and eight (people's memories
differ).
Attendees,
when able to pick up a pen and grip sanity in the surreal atmosphere,
scrawled comments (a small percentage were legible and/or intelligible)
in the spiral ledger Judge Turner had the foresight to pass around.
See below for some of the highlights.
Of
course, words probably aren't enough for this epic event. For
the full story we have photographic evidence. Please peruse the
pictures and watch the historic madness unfold.
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"There
was a young man from Colma
Whose studly-ness was known throughout Roma
He stood on a chair
And exposed his chest hair
And said: "If I eat anymore, I'll be in a coma!"
"I
get it."
"The
wine is incredible. I wish I had a barrel of it in my basement!"
"Thanks
for having me as third string. I'll earn my bib (and my place
at the table) this year"
"And
he thought that was ALL we were eating!! HA HA HA!!!"
"Happy
birthday Andy!
– XO Olivia Newton John"
"Menos
Hablando, mas vino, Roberto ...si...gracias."
"Meatball
beatin'
Big bottle drinkin'
Spaghetti slurpin'
Basement dwellers"
"I've
had enough meatballs, thanks!"
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Füd
Court First Anniversary Party
